Traveller
by OptimisticPessimist12
Summary: AU. A few years after the Crawler attack, a woman shows up outside Brightwall Village, with only a pair of dirty pants, a ripped shirt, and a pistol at her side. This woman is Bryn, who ended up in Albion after being killed from a fall in the world she is originally from. Gifted with the powers of Skill, she tries to find her way. Her first task, finding the other Hero of Skill.
1. Shortcut, Long Journey

**A/N: Got a weird idea for a different take on "Girl from our world falls into Albion" story...or a not so different take, I don't know. Anyway, I hope this chapter is an interesting enough start to this little thing. This story will take place a few years after the Crawler attack on Albion in the third game, with my own little twists to things. **

_AU. A few years after the Crawler attack, a woman shows up outside Brightwall Village, with only a pair of dirty pants, a ripped shirt, and a pistol at her side. This woman is Bryn, who ended up in Albion after being killed from a fall in the world she is originally from. Gifted with the powers of Skill, she tries to find her way. Her first task, finding the other Hero of Skill. _

* * *

**Traveller **

**Chapter One**

_**Short Cut, Long Journey** _

* * *

_I always thought that I would see my own death coming. _

_That I would be able to come to terms with it while the last of my strength would fade away, that I would go gently and pass away in my sleep. If it even came down to it, I would die protecting something I loved. _

_I really should have seen it coming. _

_All this was supposed to be was a simple family bonding trip, a camping trip in the mountains. There was always the risk with that, of course. The animals that roamed the woods, such as bears and wolves were always something to look out for. The nearest town with a hospital was miles away, though there was some safety in the fact that at least we were in a camp ground. _

_...I wish I could have seen it coming. _

_Hiking was always something I enjoyed, I love to climb things and be surrounded by nature. Though, coming down from my hike didn't go as I had planned it, the sun was starting to set and I knew that if I wasn't quick I would have been stranded in the dark at the mercy of whatever would come my way. _

_So, I had sought out the only shortcut I could think of. It had taken a while to find it, but once I reached it I was so relieved that all I cared about was getting across. _

_The bridge was rather thin, meant for just one person to cross at the time. The wires looked a little worn, tied to a pair of poles at the other end, keeping the even more worn down wooden planks in place that made up the bridge. As I had gripped the wires, I kept my eyes down on the boards. I stepped carefully on each board, which creaked as the bridge swayed as I slowly started to cross. _

_Through the gaps between each board, I could see down into the steep drop off that the small bridge stretched across, the fading light making it hard to tell just down far down it was. I tried not to shake as I made my way towards the middle of the bridge, my hands gripping the wires so tightly that I was sure my palms had scratches on them. _

_I should have seen it coming!_

_As I took a step on the next wooden board, I heard something on the other side. Snapping my head up, I saw that one of the poles was leaning dangerously forward, looking like it was about to pop out of the soil that it was stuck in. My body locked, all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears and my panicked breaking. All thoughts were gone from my head, a tunnel vision starting to form. All I could see was that pole, leaning ever so slowly towards the edge of the drop off. Suddenly, I started to move forward once again, my legs and arms shaking as I tried to pull myself forward. _

_With my movement, the pole on the other end gave one last bend before I heard the snap of the wire being released. The bridge dipped harshly to one side, my feet dangling in the air as I started to fall down into the drop off. Scrambling, I reached out and managed to grab at the board, the wooden plank slipping off easily, and I was falling. _

_I have never experienced the sheer helplessness as I reached out, grasping at air and my legs rising up above my head. If I was going to land on anything, it would be head first. I was still turning during the fall when something hard and solid collided with my chest._

_I felt my ribs snap, the pain not quite registering just yet. I slammed my hands on the small edge, raking my nails against the stone, my hands trying to grab onto anything before I slipped off and fell the rest of the way. I screamed my head off, shutting my eyes as I caught glimpse of another ledge coming towards me at an alarming speed. _

_The impact of my back against stone knocked the air out of my lungs, my head snapping back and slamming against the ground. I felt my teeth slam together as everything stilled. My mouth was open, but I couldn't release a breath. The pain was horrible, my vision blurry and a loud ringing in my ears making it very hard to think. _

_When I was able to get air of my lungs, it was in the form of an agonizing scream. One that echoed off of the stones and empty spaces. I could taste blood, I couldn't move my legs and one of my arms. The only thing I could really move was my eyes and one of my hands that was shaking uncontrollably. There was liquid building up in my throat. Maybe it was puke, though I am sure that it was blood. _

_Eventually, the pain started to fade as the world around me started to grow dark around the edges, eating away at my vision until it was all I saw. It was a long time before I didn't feel anything at all. _

_I had fallen to my death, and had laid there alive until my punctured lungs bleed out and I finally died of blood loss and most likely head trauma._

_I should have been smart enough to prevent this from happening._

* * *

I felt light, floating on nothing. I could hear my siblings and the conversation they had before I left, telling me about being careful and returning before sundown. I could hear my mother and father singing to a song on the radio on the way to the camp ground.

I heard my own agonizing scream.

"_Remember these things dearly, traveller. For your new journey is about to begin." _

My eyes opened, something I was sure I would never be able to do again. I blinked, realizing that I was standing on solid ground. I glanced down at myself, my arms and legs were bare, my bones firmly inside my skin. I swallowed, glancing up to see a cloaked figure standing a few steps away from me. Her red hood covered most of her face, though I could faintly see white eyes peering out from under the hood. Carefully, I walked towards her and paused within arms distance of her.

A small smile formed on her lips, "Welcome, traveller."

I stared at her for a few moments, swallowing thickly as the question I really wanted to ask found its way to my lips.

"Am I...dead?"

"You are, yet you are not," she confirmed, my heart sinking to my stomach as I stared at her wide eyed.

"What do you mean?"

"Where one life ends, another begins. You cannot return to your world, for there is nothing for you to return to. In this world, you have yet to begin your true journey. My name is Theresa, The Seer of The Spire."

"Theresa?" I asked, blinking, "you mean...the blind seer from Fable? A video game?"

"What may be a game in your world is something completely different in this world," Theresa said, her hands folded out in front of her.

I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to believe that this was just some sort of side effect to the damage my head took upon hitting the rock. I wanted to believe that I was still laying on that ledge, slowly dying and waiting for someone to discover me.

"No..." I started, shaking my head, "I don't..."

"Yet, you know it to be true. You relieved your death before arriving here, you know that you are dead."

Was that what that was? I did see myself fall from the bridge, felt the pain, and yet my thoughts seemed to..._know_. I stared at Theresa, my eyes starting to sting slightly from not blinking. A shiver ran up my spine, a longing for my family and the safety of my home started to build up in my chest.

"In time," Theresa said, "you will find that Albion will become a home to you as well. What is your name, traveller?"

"...B-Bryn," I stated, nodding my head, "my name is Bryn."

Theresa nodded her head, turning and started to walk down a path. I started to follow her, watching as a whole path seemed to open up in front of us. A few gates lined up, one after another, until the path seemed to split into two. Theresa stopped in front of the first gate, turning to face me once again.

"Each gate represents a goal that you must complete until you finally reach a choice you must make," she explained, my eyes looking around me in some sort of wonder. I was in awe, yet scared out of my mind at the same time. This layout seemed familiar to me, though I had never played the game myself, I had watched my older brother play through it once.

"But, first, we must start you on your path," Theresa said, breaking me out of my train of thought, "you have a purpose here, which will eventually be revealed in time. For now, you must take this."

She held her hands out, an object appearing in her hands. I frowned down at it, noticing the small pistol resting in her hands. It looked old, rusted, but there was something about it that made my fingers tingle as I reached out towards it.

As I grabbed the leather wrapped handle of the pistol, I felt something shoot up my arms and made me cry out in pain. The pistol seemed to become part of me, fitting perfectly in my hands as the pain subsided and I held it in my hands. I had never really handled a gun before, I never really liked them in the first place. Yet, there was part of me that felt like I knew how to use this.

"What did you do to me?" I asked, glancing up at her. Theresa stepped aside, a large portal opening outside the first gate.

"I have made a Hero out of you, something I have never done with your family members when they would travel here after their deaths. It has not happened for a long time, but I knew that you would be the right choice to do this. You are now a Hero of Skill."

I paused, looking down at the gun, "you shouldn't have done this. I don't belong here."

"You do," Theresa said, gesturing towards the portal, "in time you will see. Now, you must enter into this world."

"Hold on," I said quickly, recalling something my brother had said to me about the game once, "don't you already have a Hero of Skill? Wasn't he a..." I trailed off, waving my hand as I tried to remember the character I was talking about, "pirate...business man...or something?"

"He was one, and is still the other," Theresa said, "he will play a part in your journey rather early on, and if you are successful, he will become a very valuable ally."

I nodded my head, turning to look at the portal. This still all felt like some dream, and I couldn't help but wonder what will happen to me once I step through the portal. I didn't really play or watch the game enough to know these characters or anything else about the game, really. Now, I was supposed to be a...Hero of Skill, whatever that meant. Still, I wanted death now, to start the afterlife and not start a whole other life. Not to mention that memories and experiences from my old life were still fresh in my mind.

Still, I found myself walking towards the portal, stopping in front of it and peered into it to see if I could see anything. All I saw was a vortex of white and grey, nothing telling me of what waited on the other side. I was afraid.

I was no hero.

I couldn't even save myself from death.

...None the less, if I needed to be this Hero to work towards finally resting in peace, then I would be whatever Theresa needed me to be.

I would play along for now.


	2. Homesickness

**A/N: So, here is the second chapter to this story. It is a little slow, though I have tried to jump a bit ahead into the plot here so it isn't _too_ slow. Anyway, hopefully next chapter will be more action-y. I hope all who are reading this are enjoying it, feel free to drop me a review or something if you want to. :) I think this is the longest single chapter I have ever written. Hopefully my next chapters will be shorter. :P**

_AU. A few years after the Crawler attack, a woman shows up outside Brightwall Village, with only a pair of dirty pants, a ripped shirt, and a pistol at her side. This woman is Bryn, who ended up in Albion after being killed from a fall in the world she is originally from. Gifted with the powers of Skill, she tries to find her way. Her first task, finding the other Hero of Skill._

* * *

**Traveller **

**Chapter Two**

_**Homesickness**_

* * *

My mouth was dry.

Sleepily, I stuck my tongue out to wet my lips, pulling a face as I tried to swallow what little saliva I had in my mouth. Some water about now would be great, though I still want to sleep. I was laying on something hard, flat on my back. Some images flashed before my eyes, the thin wooden bridge, the wire snapping, rocks...

_Am I still laying on the edge? How come I can't feel any pain, and my breathing is smooth and even? What the hell is digging into my side? _

Rolling my head to the side, I hesitantly opened my eyes. It was dark, my cheek resting against a dirt path. Slowly, testing to make sure I could still do so, I flexed my toes out. I could move my feet and legs with no pain whatsoever. Though, my neck and back were sore and stiff. How long had I been laying here?

Looking up, I noticed tall trees towering above me, the sky dark.

Sitting up with a slight hiss, I took a worried glance around me. Everything was unfamiliar and it was really too dark for me to make heads or tails of anything. Standing on shaking legs, I noticed that the pants I wore were dirty and looked worn, my shirt not any better. The only thing that seemed in relatively good shape was the holster that held the pistol. It was acting as a belt of some sort at the moment, my hand reaching down carefully to pull out the weapon.

Anxiety was starting to take its toll on me, my eyes scanning the area for anything that would be a danger to me. I felt a little better that I had a weapon with me, but I still didn't want to run into anything, as I haven't shot anything before.

Letting out a breath, I glanced down where the path seemed to be leading me. Wherever it would lead me, it had to be better than laying, unconscious, in the woods. I took a couple deep breaths, quite happy that I was able to do so, before heading down the dark path at the quick pace, gun firmly in my hand.

* * *

It took a bit of stumbling around in the dark before I noticed some light. There was a single lantern hanging off a wooden pole, casting enough light for me to see that there was a rather large bridge that lead to a village, some of the buildings still having light coming from them.

Civilization, finally!

Though, I paused in front of the bridge, taking a moment to peer down at the large gap it spanned over. Of course, it looked rather sturdy and I shouldn't really be too worried about it, but I couldn't help but remember the fear that the last bridge I crossed brought me. My throat became dry, more so than it already was, and the palms of my hands started to sweat. Pressing a hand against the side of my face, I backed away a couple steps as I let out the breath I had been holding.

_It is either I cross the bridge to get to the town, or I stay out here and be at the mercy of whatever creatures that might cross my path. This is really not the time to be developing a phobia..._

With a deep sigh, I started to walk across the stone bridge, my eyes down at my bare feet as I walked. I kept telling myself not to look up or off to the side, just focusing on my steps and continuing forward. I kept my hands out to the sides, as if I was suddenly walking a bridge ten times smaller and needed to do so to keep my balance. To anybody that might have seen me, I must have looked like an idiot.

Still, I kept my eyes downcast and tried not to stop when my mind was screaming at me to do so. Eventually, I glanced up to see that I had made it across and stood at the entrance to the town, taking a moment to soak in that fact and to stare at just how...different things looked. There were a few stalls set up, though there wasn't many people standing at them. The town looked like...well, it looked like something from Fable. The old looking buildings, the villagers dressed in period clothing, and that there seemed to be no modern machinery that I was so accustomed to seeing.

_It is Fable..._

Shaking my head, I started to wonder around, looking for an inn or at least a secluded place to rest for the night. Seeing as I had no money on me, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to stay in the inn. Still, I wasn't going to curl up under a tree and I needed rest. After some more aimless wondering, I managed to locate the inn. There didn't seem to be a lot of people around, which was odd as the town looked like it would sport a few more people than the odd villager and guard that I had seen wondering around the streets.

Shaking off the odd feeling, I wondered into the inn and approached the woman at the bar, who was serving a few of the people there. She glanced up at me as I approached, a frown crossing her features. Out of anger or concern, I couldn't really tell, but all I had on my mind at the moment was getting into a bed and sleeping.

"How much is it to stay here?" I asked, coming to stand at the bar. The woman just eyed me for a few moments before replying.

"If you can find an available bed, you can sleep in it," she said, tilting her head slightly as she continued to look at me, "though, I doubt I could find it in me to charge you. You certainly look like a weary traveller. Where did you come from?"

I paused, trying to piece together a believable story. After a few moments I just decided to pull the "memory lapse" card.

"Can't remember," I said, shrugging, "I was wondering through the woods and saw the light."

"Oh, how unfortunate!" she exclaimed, "you poor thing. Well, if you need anything, a drink or some food, just ask."

I gave her a small smile, "some water would be a blessing."

She gave me a nod, turning to grab something from under the bar as I decided that I would take a seat. She placed a mug in front of me after a few moments, a sympathetic smile on her face as I wrapped my hands around it and started to drink from it. The water was great, the dryness in my throat starting to subside and it helped ease the ache in my stomach a little bit.

"What is your name?" the woman asked after I placed the mug back down.

"Bryn," I said, pulling my hands down into my lap after noticing how dirty they were. I couldn't imagine how bad I looked, though I almost didn't want to see what I looked like at all. If this world is supposed to be a video game, and apparently my body is on a ledge back in my world, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to recognize myself.

"My name is Isobel," the woman said, breaking me away from my thoughts, "it is nice to see a fresh face around here, we haven't had many people travelling into Brightwall all that much anymore. Though, I guess it is better than it was a few years ago..."

I just nodded my head, making a note to ask about the lack of people in the morning when I had my head on straight. Part of me still wanted to believe that this was all some dream, yet it felt too real to be something I made up. I frowned, that dull ache in the pit of my stomach cropping up. It was familiar, something that I used to get when I spent the night at a friend's house and couldn't sleep.

It was longing for my familiar apartment, my bedroom with the white comforter and soft pillows. The longing for something familiar, my family and friends.

I wanted to go home.

The stinging behind my eyes started to become noticeable, making me stand from the stool and offer a quick thanks to Isobel before I started towards a vacant room in the inn. Once I found one, I let out a small sigh and wondered over towards the bed. Removing the leather holster from around my waist, I took a few moment to look down at the pistol. It looked exactly like the one Theresa had given me, the barrel slightly rusty and the handle wrapped in straps of leather.

It certainly wasn't anything to look at, but it was a workable weapon at least. I had been given the power of Skill, though I still don't really understand what that means. Was it the skill to shoot a gun? I'll have to wait and see, I guess.

Placing the gun down on a small stand beside the bed, I wonder towards the light source in the room. It was two lanterns, one at the end of the room and one on the stand beside the bed. Bending down, I blew out the one nearest to me and headed back towards the bed. With a tired sigh, I laid down onto my back and looked up towards the wooden planks that lined the roof.

So, this is where my journey starts. Laying on a bed in dirty clothes and a rusty pistol sitting on the table beside me. I started to wonder about what happened to me back in my world, was my body still laying on the ledge? Would I be found or just declared missing? I know that my mother would be worried sick and my father and brothers would be trying to find me. My little sister might be too young to understand...

Once the news of my death hits, my mother would probably break down, falling into a depression that she is known for. It would most likely be the biggest one yet. My father would probably be the strong one, keeping the family going. My brothers...

I closed my eyes, pressing my hand against them as my bottom lip wobbled. It hurt to think about what they must be going through right now, and I longed to see them again. I would do so in a broken body even, as long as I wasn't _here_. Still, crying and thinking of home won't be getting me anywhere. I needed to figure out what I was to do, and I had some sort of an idea. I had noticed a carriage upon entering the town, so there was my mode of transportation. Going by foot would just be long and tiring, so I will have to get rides whenever I am able.

Where to go, though, is a different story. What I was planning on doing was another good question, but I will just have to work on getting to that point first. If I am to figure out what these powers do, I will have to find someone who knows how to use them. I'll try the other Hero of Skill first, and if that doesn't work out...

_It will work out, _I told myself, nodding, _I just need to figure out just where he is. I doubt he is here, anyway. What was his name again? Something with an R...Re...Reaver? That name sounds familiar...go with the familiar. _

Feeling slightly better, I rolled onto my side and leaned over, blowing out the remaining lantern and cast the room into darkness. Rolling over to face the wall, as I used to do in my bed back home, I closed my eyes and let sleep take hold once again.

* * *

A couple weeks passed as I stayed in Brightwall, spending my nights with Isobel in the inn and doing the odd job around town to start working for food, a small sword, some new clothes, and money towards the carriage. I had managed to change from the worn down clothes into something more new, a modest looking dress that wasn't too bright in colours, and an overcoat that concealed my pistol rather nicely. I didn't like the looks I was getting from some of the guards while I had it hanging from my hip in plain sight. Brightwall became rather familiar to me, and I almost found myself not wanting to leave so soon. Though, the time to move on was fast approaching as I almost hit a month at staying in the town.

For some reason, I couldn't really bring myself to ask about the lack of people. The only clues I got about what happened was an event that happened a few years ago, and that the towns folk seem rather bitter and sad about it.

It seemed rather...sinister.

One night, though, Isobel brought up something rather interesting.

"You know," she said, leaning against the table we were sitting at, "have you thought of working towards buying a home here?"

The inn was rather bare that night, the few people that frequented it were either asleep or somewhere else. It was rather late at night, anyway. I glanced down at my drink, shaking my head.

"No, not really," I said, taking a sip from my drink, "I'm not really planning on staying..."

"Really?" Isobel asked, looking a little sad. I felt kind of bad for letting her hopes down, seeing as she seemed to be rather friendly towards me. Are we friends?

I guess so.

_I made my first friend..._

"That is too bad," she continued, taking a sip of her own drink, "do you know that our Hero Queen has property here? It is one of the houses that remains somewhat in its original state."

"I didn't know that," I said, tilting my head.

"Yeah, though she doesn't visit much," Isobel said with a small chuckle, "if she were to, I am sure we would all know. So, if you aren't staying, where are you going?"

"That is what I am trying to figure out," I said, tilting my drink slightly in its cup, "I'm looking for someone."

"Are you?" Isobel asked, "well, tell me who. I might be able to help you out if they are rather well known."

"I'm looking for a Reaver," I said, glancing up at her to see a surprised look on her face.

"You are looking for _Reaver?_" she asked, her eyebrows pulling down slightly in confusion.

"Yeah, have you heard him?"

Isobel let out a laugh, "who _hasn't_ heard of Reaver?" she paused, the amused expression falling off her face, "You, I'm guessing... Alright, then. Well, I have never personally met Reaver, but I have heard some of the stories. Still, if you are looking for him, you might be a bit too late. Not very many have seen him in recent years, though some of his factories are still up and running. He must be watching over those, so you could visit some of those in Bowerstone Industrial, or, if you are feeling rather risky, you could visit his manor in Millfields."

"Alright, I'll look into those," I said, taking mental notes of the names.

"Just...be careful," Isobel said, frowning.

"Why?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. I had only really seen glimpses of the character during my brother's play through of the game. From what I have seen, he didn't seem like the most...selfless character, but that is really all I can remember about him.

"_Why? _Because the man is cruel, Bryn. If you are seeking him out, you had best keep your wits about you."

"A-Alright," I said slowly at her rather harsh tone, "I guess I should ask. What do I need to worry about him?"

"You should be very worried about getting a bullet in your skull," Isobel said, picking up her drink, "I've heard he takes quite the bit of enjoyment in taking lives. So, I would worry about that. Or him bedding you. Probably both."

"And this man hasn't been brought to justice?" I asked with a breathless laugh, starting to dread the decision of seeking him out.

"Oh," Isobel cooed slightly with a smirk, "it is rather sweet that you wonder about that."

"You don't seem to like him all that much," I said, taking a sip from my drink, the liquid almost all gone. They certainly had some tasty liquor here...

"Take a visit to Bowerstone Industrial," Isobel said, her tone bitter, "you'll see why I don't like Reaver."

* * *

During my last night in Brightwall, I got a visit from Theresa. The landscape hadn't changed a bit, the only thing that wasn't concealed in a grey mist was the path and the gates. The first gate, one that had been closed the last time I saw her, was now open. I noticed Theresa standing at the second gate, her hands folded in front of her as she waited for me to approach her.

I noticed that there was a single chest a few feet away from me, my eyes landing on it as I passed, noticing a little target engraved into the seal that kept it shut.

"Hello again, traveller," Theresa said, my gaze turning to her as I stopped in front of her, "you have been making progress in your journey, and it is time that you start your next goal."

I nodded my head, glancing towards the gate she was standing in front of, "I need to find Reaver."

"More so, Reaver needs to find you," Theresa said, my gaze moving back towards her as she continued, "you will not find Reaver in Bowerstone, nor will you find him in Millfields. You will have to find something that will draw him to you if you wish to see him."

"...The factories," I muttered to myself, Theresa not replying to that, though I could see the flicker of something crossing her features before her expression became serious once again.

"Before you start this next goal, you will need to upgrade your weapon and Skill," Theresa said, walking past me and towards the chest, "open this chest and then step into the portal."

I approached the chest, looking down at it for a few moments before I placed my hands on the lid and opened it. The chest popped open with a little bit of protest, inside rested a wrapped present. I raised an eyebrow slightly, bending down to pick it up and hold it in my hands as I studied it. With some hesitation, I pulled the bow off it, the box falling open to reveal a bright light.

I got the familiar sensation that ran up my arms, the slight burning and tingling. I grit my teeth as the light started to die down, the pain subsiding. I noticed that the weapon hanging off my hip felt heavier. Pulling back my coat a bit, I noticed the the rusty pistol looked different, the barrel shining with new metal, the leather bound handle now a smooth wood.

I grinned slightly, pulling it out to further study it. I turned it in my hands slightly, approving of the change before I tucked it back away. I felt a little different too, though that was fading quickly. I still had yet to figure out what my powers did, even if they have been upgraded.

With a sigh, I turned and walked towards the portal. I still felt the same reluctance to step through it that I had the first time, but I knew that I had started this thing and I needed to finish it. I was still holding onto the hope of going back home, or to be able to have my death.

_I will shoot Reaver's kneecaps if it means that I get a chance to go home, _I thought with a small smile as I stepped into the portal, the "dream" fading and I woke up a few minutes later.

It was time to cross another bridge. I had to keep moving forward.


	3. Nuisance

**A/N: These seem to be coming out of me rather quickly. Let us see how long that lasts. Anyway, here is the third chapter. There is quite a bit of jumping around, but the next chapter and the ones after should slow down a bit. Anyway, thank you for all the people who favourite and/or alert this story! **

_AU. A few years after the Crawler attack, a woman shows up outside Brightwall Village, with only a pair of dirty pants, a ripped shirt, and a pistol at her side. This woman is Bryn, who ended up in Albion after being killed from a fall in the world she is originally from. Gifted with the powers of Skill, she tries to find her way. Her first task, finding the other Hero of Skill._

* * *

**Traveller **

**Chapter Three**

_**Nuisance**_

* * *

It took at least a day to finally reach Bowerstone, probably more, though it was difficult to tell with no windows to look out of. Still, I could almost tell when it was day and when it was night, judging from the amount of light that would sneak through the small gaps where the door didn't quite connect with the rest of the carriage. Other than that, it was rather dark and hot. I spent most of my time scheming, thinking, and sleeping. It was rather difficult to get a good sleep in the back of a carriage, and it made me more appreciative the cars back in my world. My dreams were rather unpleasant, making me wake up with my own scream echoing in my head. I had spent about a month in this world, and I was still holding onto those memories.

I'm starting to doubt that I will ever be able to let them go.

Once I reached Bowerstone, I was hungry, thirsty, and sleep deprived. Whatever business I had here would have to wait just a bit so I can get my own energy back. I lurched slightly when the carriage stopped, three knocks from the driver signalling that it was time to get out. Finally. A few moments later, the carriage door opened to reveal the driver. He was a shorter man, a rather gruff look to him. He stepped aside to let me climb out, the early morning sunlight making me shield my eyes and wince.

"Welcome ta' Bowerstone," the driver said, making me glance back towards him as he held out a gloved hand. Reaching into the folds of my coat, I pulled out the pouch of gold I had, counting out the pieces before handing them over.

"Thank you," I said with a nod, tucking the pouch away and surveyed my surroundings. There was a rather large bridge a few feet ahead of me, spanning over a river, and what seemed to be a large clock tower on the other side. I could see many buildings and houses, and as I looked above the town, I could see what looked like a castle in the distance.

I started towards the bridge, mentally battling myself when my legs seemed to lock up a few steps away from it, and focused my attention to the clock tower on the other side. Trying not to clench my hands too tightly, I started to walk across the bridge, aware of some of the people walking past me and ahead of me, though I didn't pay them much attention.

_I can't be scared of every bridge I cross, _I scolded myself bitterly, _especially ones as solid and stable as this one. I fell from that bridge because it obviously wasn't made for people to cross. Plus, this one has water under it, and I do know how to swim well enough to get myself onto solid ground again. _

My self pep talk didn't work out all that well, as I felt the twisting in my gut, the racing of my heart, and the sweat that dotted my forehead and the palms of my hands. I got flashes of slamming against rocks, my hands grasping feebly onto stone before slipping off. Shutting my eyes, I tucked my head down and pushed on, bumping into someone. I heard an angry shout, but didn't stop. I opened my eyes, glancing behind me to see an angry woman shake her head at me before turning to continue to where she was heading.

With a grimace, I glanced up at the clock tower that stood a few feet in front of me and let out a deep sigh. Adjusting my coat, I continued on into the semi-busy market. There were a lot more people here than there were in Brightwall at least. Yet, it was eerily bare for a city, especially one that was home to a castle where I safely assumed the Queen lived. Walking slowly through the market, looking at some of the stalls and shops, my stomach gave me a sharp pain and growl. I winced, placing my hand on my stomach and glanced around me for a food stall.

Spotting my prey, I stalked towards the stall where I could smell the meat pie. Digging out my pouch, I looked up at the vender.

"How much for the pie?" I asked, pointing at the one I wanted.

"Five gold piece," the vender said, a frown crossing my face as I bumped out the rest of my coins, counting out five of them and handing them to the vender. That left me with just two gold piece, but I tried not to worry myself about that, seeing as there was probably many jobs around here that I could do.

Taking the semi-warm pie in my arms, and walked off to find a place to eat it. It wasn't the tastiest thing I have ever eaten, and was somewhat cold in some places, but it was enough to settle my stomach. Now, I just needed to get some sleep in before I explore some more. I took a few moments to look over at the open gate in front of me, noticing the tall chimneys sticking out towards the sky, a few of them spewing smoke.

_That must be the industrial area..._I thought to myself, wondering if I should wonder inside. I shook my head, telling myself I would go after I got some solid sleep. Wondering back towards the main part of the market where I had saw an inn, I started to piece together a plan.

* * *

It was mid-day when I ventured into Bowerstone Industrial. It didn't take very long before I noticed the change from the market, and aside from the worn down houses and the large factories, I noticed a school as well.

Odd.

The stench of smoke and sewage made me bunch up my nose in disgust as I wondered down towards where the factories were located. The people I ran into were dressed rather poorly, some of them looking at me with pleading eyes, asking for money or some food.

Feeling rather sympathetic, I gave a young man the last of my gold pieces. He seemed let down, commenting on how he couldn't buy anything with just two gold piece, but thanked me anyway. I could really see why Isobel didn't like this place, and I knew that the man I was seeking out must have been behind it partly. Or more than partly. Once I reached a factory located near the docs, I took a moment to take it in.

The wooden double doors were open, where I could hear some of the machinery working. There was a logo on the door, two R's back to back inside what appeared to be a cog wheel. I took a wild guess that this would be one of Reaver's factories, a frown crossing my face as I started towards it. As I entered into the building, I noticed the sorrow-faced workers that seemed to be too busy to notice me. I paused just inside the front doors, noticing a man walking around near the centre, speaking rather loudly to the workers.

He obviously seemed to be the one in charge here, so I strode towards him, running over the plan in my head. When his gaze met mine, his eyes seemed to light up as a rather dark grin crossed his face.

"What have we here?" he exclaimed, striding towards me, "come for a job, miss? Well, I can assure you, we have plenty of space for..._volunteers_."

"Are you the one in charge here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice sharp and not to let him notice the growing sense of unease at his choice of words brought up in me.

"Aside from Reaver, I am," he said, coming to stand in front of me, "but don't worry, I have enough authority to hire you. Hm..." he seemed to look me over, "you seem a little too thin to be working with the heavy stuff, but you could probably work at a machine. Hold out your hands."

I kept my hands at my sides, glaring at him, "I'm not looking for a job, I'm looking for your boss. Do you know where he is?"

"I have no idea," the man said, narrowing his eyes at me slightly, "aside from the letters I send him about the factory, that's all the contact I have with him. Unless there is an emergency, that is probably the only contact I'll be having with him."

I nodded my head, giving him a rather forced thank you, and turned to leave the factory once again. Though, his grip around my wrist stopped me, tightening enough until I turned to glare at him. He gave me a sinister smile, one that made my heart speed up in fear.

"Now, where do you think you are going?" he asked, "workers for the factory are rather hard to come by these days, and, well, when one wonders into this factory, I make it my policy that they _stay_ in this factory."

I frowned at him, giving my arm a sharp tug to try and get him to let go, but his grip was too tight. I sneered slightly, lowering my voice.

"I am no slave, let me go."

"Or else what?" he challenged, giving my arm a sharp tug as if to make a point that he was stronger than me. At least, somewhat, as when I gave a rather sharp one in return, he lurched forwards slightly.

_Gotta do something..._I thought to myself, allowing him to start to pull me along. With his back turned to me, my hand drifted down to my pistol, starting to pull it out of its holster. I hesitated, knowing that I have never fired a gun before, nor have I ever shot someone.

_You have to shoot him, unless you want to become like the rest of these workers. Wait..._

He had said that Reaver might return to the factory in the event of an emergency, and he was obviously making money off his factories still running.

What would happen if they suddenly stopped?

Pulling back slightly, I pulled out my pistol, pulling the hammer back and aimed down towards the man's leg. I was close enough that I didn't really need to worry about missing and I fired off a shot. The bullet embedded itself into the back of his knee, the man letting out a loud yell as he released me. Stepping back, gun still pointed at him, I watched as he fell to the floor where some blood was starting to stain the fabric of his trousers.

I turned my head away from him to glance behind me, noticing that the workers had stopped and were watching with shocked and frightened eyes.

"Now then," I said, clearing my throat, "who here has willingly _volunteered_ to work for this factory?"

There was a heavy silence from the workers, some of them already moving away from their stations. The only sound in the room was the man I shot, cursing me out and groaning in pain on the floor. I grinned slightly, lifting my pistol up so it rested against my shoulder.

"That is what I thought," I said, "you are all free from your work here. This factory has hereby been shut down, and if I catch it up and running again," I turned to look over at the man on the floor behind me, "I'll come right back here and shoot your other leg. After that, your stomach, shoulders, arms, and, eventually, your head. You can pass that message on to your other colleagues as well as Mister Reaver."

Feeling pissed off and a little bit disgusted with both myself and the whole situation, I tucked my pistol into its holster and strode out of the factory, starting to make my way up towards the market once again.

_This is crazy..._I thought to myself, _but it could work._

* * *

It took a whole two months before I got news that my plan had worked.

I spent most of my days working in the market, making a few gold coins and helping out some of the citizens. The nights where I wasn't wondering around Industrial, I was collecting empty bottles and setting them up in an alleyway every evening, shooting at them, improving my aim and speed. It wasn't the best, but I couldn't deny that I was fairly good at it.

The nights where I wasn't shooting bottles, I was shooting the limbs of the factory operators who thought that my threat wasn't serious enough. I have never had to shoot anybody in the head yet, which I was relieved about, because I still felt some guilt of causing the pain of others.

Even if they disgusted me.

Every second night I had a nightmare of some sort, it seemed. Most of the time it was of my death, my family and friends. Sometimes I would have some confusing dream about blood, gunshots, and I would end up waking with the smell of smoke lingering in my nose.

I took to wearing a hooded cloak when I had to go shut down some factories. There was the fear that someone might recognize me during the day and decide to get even. Nothing like that has happened yet, but word was starting to get around about a "hooded revolutionist" shooting at the factory operators and shutting down some of Reaver's remaining factories. Some were bitter about it, while a lot of them seemed to like the gossip. Which I guess was working, seeing as I found myself shooting bottles in an alleyway more and more often instead of heading down to Industrial.

I had been walking back from my fourth night of shooting practice when I heard two people talking. They spoke in hushed tones, the woman seeming almost excited, yet nervous at the same time.

"Did you hear?" she asked her companion as I had walked by, "Someone down in Bowerstone Industrial spotted Reaver visiting some of his factories. He must be here to deal with the person who has been shutting them down."

I paused and glanced back at them, my eyes wide as I took in that information. I had been wanting this result, yet I couldn't help the fear that started to grip at me. He was here, and I was most likely going to end up being shot, or shot _at, _if I am lucky. I may be improving my marksmanship, but he was probably much better.

Still, I got him here and this was a way to keep myself going forward. So, adjusting my holster, and taking a moment to collect myself, I started down towards Bowerstone Industrial with my heart in my throat.


	4. Bully In The Sandbox

**A/N: I'm not sure how well this one turned out, though it is the better one of the two versions of this chapter I had written out. I hope I got Reaver's character somewhat, as he is a tough character to write, more so than I thought. Anyway, this won't be the last we will be seeing of Reaver, but there will be more familiar characters next chapter. Once again, thanks to all who follow/favourite/review this story! **

_AU. A few years after the Crawler attack, a woman shows up outside Brightwall Village, with only a pair of dirty pants, a ripped shirt, and a pistol at her side. This woman is Bryn, who ended up in Albion after being killed from a fall in the world she is originally from. Gifted with the powers of Skill, she tries to find her way. Her first task, finding the other Hero of Skill._

* * *

**Traveller**

**Chapter Four**

_**Bully In The Sandbox**_

* * *

For some reason, this whole situation reminded me of something I had witnessed during my childhood.

Like most elementary schools, there was always that schoolyard bully that liked to push younger children around. I had never been the bully, nor had I been the victim, but I had witnessed both. All I can remember is seeing the older kid pushing around the younger, the young boy holding his backpack to his chest with tears in his eyes. The older kid pushed him down into the sand, and then, suddenly, there was another kid that ran towards the older kid. He planted his hands against the bully's chest and shoved him back, yelling something about leaving the younger kid alone.

The bully pushed him down too, while I had watched the whole thing without doing anything. The two younger boys where pushed down while the larger and older kid seemed to tower over them. Nobody, including myself, did anything to stop it. I had felt sympathy, and yet I also was selfishly glad that it wasn't me.

I was nobody's hero.

And yet, here I was, facing off against bully Reaver, having finally kicked enough sand in his face to motivate him to come after me.

My pistol felt heavy against my hip, each step I took towards the main factory was a chore and I couldn't seem to still my racing heart. I kept trying to compose myself, trying to put on a poker face of steely confidence, but I couldn't help but feel like I was walking head first into a trap. All signs seem to be pointing towards the fact that this was indeed a trap. I wanted to turn back while I could, to pick up whatever little items I owned and get as far away from Bowerstone as I could.

Still, I was a...Hero. I couldn't help but think about some of the things I had overheard while I had been shutting down the factories, about the happiness of some of the citizens that had family that worked in the factories, or worked there themselves. What would happen if I left? The factories would most likely begin to work once again, the poor citizens being kidnapped or forced to work in them.

I wanted to help them, be their hero. Yet, I was just one person.

One soon-to-be-dead person.

_I'm such a coward, damn it! I need to do this, to play my cards correctly and hope that things turn out alright. _

_Still, I'm terrified. _

It made no sense, I wanted my death and the peace that was supposed to come with it, yet I feared it as well.

As I finally reached the factory, I noticed that the doors were open. The machinery was still, and the main floor seemed dimly lit. If it wasn't for the doors being open, I wouldn't have any clue if someone was in there or not. Walking towards the open doors, I looked inside. The floor was completely empty, it almost seemed like they just opened the door and peered inside. It looked like nobody had set foot in there for a while, the idea of leaving this factory and checking another one popping into my head.

_Damn, I had gotten so worked up over-_

My thought was cut short when I heard a tap above me, metallic and shrill. I jumped, snapping my head up as I noticed that there was someone at the factory after all. My gaze met a rather tall man, my eyes instantly drawn towards the tall top hat that rested on his head, some dark brown hair sticking out from under the brim. I mentally started to kick myself about not spotting him earlier.

He was practically dressed in white, save for the black fur lapels of his coat, gloves, and boots. A metal cane rested against the railing of the balcony. Either he had been very sneaky or I had been so focused on the doors that I completely missed him. He didn't look like any of the factory operators that I had visited over the months, his stance was confident and intimidating. He looked arrogant, from his dark eyes that seemed to study me, right down to the cocky smile he wore.

He was looking down his nose at me.

This man was Reaver.

I could feel whatever confidence I had slipping away as I stared up at him, backing away slightly so I didn't have to crane my neck too much. My hand drifted down towards my hip, resting just above my pistol.

Reaver pushed himself away from the railing that he was leaning ever so casually against. "Well, who do we have here? A lost citizen who has wondered too far into Industrial, perhaps?"

"No," I said, clearing my throat to keep my voice steady, "I am the person who has been shooting your workers and shutting down your factories."

I felt...numb. All I could focus on was Reaver, his facial expressions, the movement of his hands. I was focused on anything that would give away any sort of clue as to what his next move would be, I wanted to be a step ahead of him. I felt it was the only way I could get out of this in once piece.

"You?" he asked, that smile still on his face, "I must say, I am rather surprised. I was expecting someone more fearsome, and _certainly_ more observant."

I felt my mouth twitch upwards slightly, "I'm sorry I'm not what you expected."

"It does not matter," Reaver said, waving it off, "you have become quite the ghost story around my workers, a hooded revolutionist who waltzes into the factories in the dead of night and shoots my head operators and releases the workers," he let out a chuckle, "it had all been so amusing, especially since the people and places around here have become quite the bore. Yet, it has started to become an annoyance. So, I am going to have to put a stop to your little act."

"What if I could convince you that I am worth more alive?" I asked quickly, jumping on the chance to see if I could convince him without having to draw guns or blood.

"Go ahead, then," Reaver said, shifting his cane so that he could study the handle.

"I had heard that you were a Hero," I said quickly, shifting my weight slightly, "I just had to know if it was true."

Reaver glanced down at me once again, pulling his attention away from his cane, "I haven't been called such in a long time, something I don't necessarily miss. _Hero_, the implications that come with the title are much too light, while I prefer to dabble in more darker things. Though, yes, I am _the_ Hero of Skill," he smirked, "would you like a demonstration?"

"No," I said, a smile growing, even if I was shaking and screaming on the inside, "I believe you. Though, I have to admit that you are _not_ the only Hero of Skill. At least, not anymore. I am one, too."

...I have no idea where that came from. Maybe I was feeding off him, because that was much too cocky for what I had been intending. Though, even with my tone, Reaver seemed to be taking amusement from it.

"Oh, are you?" he cooed, like I was one of the children that ran around Bowerstone Market with the wooden swords. Like I was joking.

"I am," I said, opening my mouth to continue, but Reaver spoke up before I had the chance.

"I see that allowing you to speak was a mistake," he said, placing his hands on the railing of the balcony, "my boredom and amusement was the only reason keeping me from putting a bullet into you, but that is starting to fade now and I have no interest in listening to your delusional banter. So, with that, I bid you, adieu-"

I don't know if it had been my level of alertness, or if it was the aid of the power of Skill, but half way through his little speech, alarm bells started to go off in my head. As quickly as I could, I gripped the hilt of my pistol and whipped it out at about the same time as Reaver, my thumb pulling back the hammer and I shot. I had aimed for his shoulder, but my aim was a little off and the bullet embedded itself into the side of his palm, just missing his gun.

Reaver staggered back slightly, dropping his pistol onto the floor of the balcony. I almost wanted to laugh in relief that I was still standing and I had been quick enough to actually hit him before he hit me. I slowly lowered my gun, my arm shaking with adrenaline as I watched Reaver remove his glove. I could see a bit of red on his skin, Reaver turning his hand over slightly. His face was turned away from me, so I couldn't see his expression. Though, he bent down to pick up his gun and turned towards me once again.

"Lucky shot, my dear," he said, looking at his glove with some distaste, "not only have you actually managed to hit me, but you ruined my glove..." he tsked, "such a shame. None the less, do stay put, I'll be down in a few moments."

I didn't have time to prepare for the sudden shot he fired off, a sharp pain stabbing into my stomach as I stumbled onto my back in shock. I let out a scream, grabbing at my stomach where I could feel blood seeping out onto my fingers. I felt tears spring to my eyes, panic making me scramble up into a partly sitting position, raising my gun towards the main door of the factory and started firing. Another gunshot that wasn't my own rang out, hitting me right in the knee, blood spraying out from the impact as I let out another agonized yell.

"Such horrible aim," Reaver said, striding confidently out of the factory and towards me, cocky smile on his face once again, "you are just wasting bullets now, my dear. Now, what was your little threat again? Ah yes, you shot one knee, then the other-" he fired a shot into my other leg, another scream from me, "then the stomach, the shoulder-" he fired off a shot, the bullet hitting high and cut into my neck. The pain was starting to make my ears ring, the edges of my vision blurring.

"Then," Reaver continued, "eventually, the head," he raised his gun towards my head, my eyes shutting tightly as I waited for the blow. Though, I heard him continue, "but, you never really got to that point, did you? I got your message, and I doubt that I will be seeing any more of you. Nonetheless, you certainly brought me some amusement. _Hero of Skill_..." he shook his head slightly, like all of this was a joke, "still, that had to end sometime. Like I was saying, I bid you, adieu. Tatty-bye!"

With that, I heard him walking off. I wanted to see him go, aim my pistol and fire into his back, but I couldn't bring myself to move. I was worried about the wound in my stomach, and more so about the one in my neck.

This was...pointless. Pathetic. How long did I stay in Albion? About...four months?

_Well, at least it is over..._

I felt myself slipping away once again.

* * *

"_Mom!" _

_I had no idea what was going on. Everything was black, there was nothing, but I felt a familiar presence. The sent of sweet perfume, the light humming of a song, my mother's voice. She was here! Had she found me? _

"_Mom!" I screamed again, loud, the intensity of the scream making my throat burn. "Dad! Darren! Marcus!" _

_I could sense them there, but I couldn't see them. There was a heart beat, my own, faintly in my ears. There was also footsteps, they sounded steady. Thump, thump, thump. _

"_Hey-" I heard an unfamiliar voice call out, male. The image of a pair of blue eyes, blond hair..._

"_Found her!" he continued, his voice fading in and out. I heard another pair of footsteps, this time sounding more scurried, kicking up dirt as they walked. _

"_I see Reaver got to her before we did," the new voice said, a serious female voice, "...a lot of blood." _

_I felt hands gripping at my head, I wanted to tell them to stop, but I only let out a painful groan as I started to feel again. It felt like everything from my stomach down was on fire, my neck stinging. _

"_Stop..." I muttered weakly, but whoever these people were didn't seem to hear me. _

"_She's still alive," the female said, "...might still have time." _

_I had to be dead now, I could remember Reaver, every little thing he said to me. His eyes, his face...my pistol, gunfire, blood. _

"_No, no," I muttered, hoping that someone would hear me, "let me die, please. I am so close...I can't..." _

_Someone was holding me tightly, jostling me as I heard more steady footfalls. Thud, thud, thud..._

_Another heartbeat, this time against my ear. Was I being carried? _

"_No..." I muttered to myself, "not strong enough..." _

"_Be strong, traveller." _

_Theresa? _

_The dream faded, leaving me with the image of Reaver, his smug expression, and his bloody hand. _


	5. Healing

**A/N: I'm sorry for the long wait on this chapter, which is rather uneventful in my opinion. I'm working through a block. I figured it was time for some small character development, so...yeah! To those still reading, once again, thank you and I hope that you enjoy this chapter none the less.**

* * *

**Traveller**

**Chapter Five**

_**Healing**_

* * *

I had always had a problem with sleeping in unfamiliar places.

There was always the need to be up and awake at the slightest sign that I had started to wake from a deep sleep. When I was younger, it always resulted in me being the first one up at sleepovers, just sitting and waiting for someone else to wake up. It also resulted in a bad sleep as well, no matter how late I had stayed up the night before.

This time, though, it was different.

I knew that I wasn't where I had been left, I couldn't feel the hard ground on my back, or the pain from my wounds, actually. I wanted to question where I was, what that foul smell was, and how I was still alive. I had thought for sure that I would die once again, and that would be it. I'd be gone, stuck in my afterlife, or wherever I am going after all of this, but I should have known that I wouldn't be let off that easily.

Usually, I would be up and alert, asking questions or finding a way to escape if needed, but I felt too weak to even bother. Though, my mind was feeling much more active than the rest of my body, thoughts racing past, vivid dreams filling the times where I was able to drift off, and unfamiliar voices breaking into my rest every now and then. I felt really hot, then it got really cold. A number of times, I thought that my heart would stop beating, the way it would drum against my rib cage with heavy thumps that would bring a sense of panic to wash over me.

It felt like days where I was just drifting between being alert to my surroundings and being somewhere completely different, and then reality gripped me and slowly started to pull me back down to where I needed to be.

My eyes slowly opened, though the heaviness of my eyelids made it difficult to keep them open. I felt sweat on the back of my neck and on my face, and my limbs felt like dead weights. It took me a few moments to take in my surroundings, the clustered room littered with boxes and other objects, and the smell of sewage hitting my senses rather hard.

Slowly sitting up, I glanced down at myself. The clothing I had been wearing before had been removed, replaced by a dirty blouse and ripped pants that seemed to only reach to just above my knees. Gingerly, I reached out and touched the smooth bandages that covered them, relieved that there wasn't too much pain. I started to check myself over, taking note that whoever had found me bandaged me up pretty well, and that they certainly knew how to heal.

Still, I couldn't help but feel defenceless without my weapons, the holster that I kept at my hip gone and I couldn't find any of the melee weapons that I had been carrying. So, here I was, in dirty clothing, at the mercy of complete strangers, and no idea of what to do next.

_I'm really back at square one, aren't I? _

"You're awake," someone said, making me snap out of my thoughts and glance towards the source of the voice. A dark-skinned woman walked towards me, a red bottle in her hands. Upon meeting my eyes, her hard and serious expression made me feel like I had done something wrong.

"You're sweating as well, which is a good sign," she said, coming to stand beside my bed and held out the bottle towards me, "I was starting to think that your fever would never break."

"Where am I?" I asked softly, my voice cracking slightly as I reached out and took the bottle from her, "who are you?"

"My name is Page," she said, "and you are in the sewers of Bowerstone Industrial. We had heard rumours about your little interventions with Reaver's factories. I had hoped to catch you before he did, but we were a little late it seems."

I nodded my head, looking down at the bottle in my hands and turned it around slightly in my hands. I hoped to find a label or something to tell me what it was, but it was just a bottle with a red substance inside.

"Why did you want to find me?" I asked, looking back up at Page.

"I believe we have the same goals in mind," Page said, crossing her arms, "though, I can't be certain that your reasons for shutting down Reaver's factories are the same as what mine are, but I believe that the outcome would be the same. Reaver has been exploiting the citizens of this city and Albion itself for his own benefit. Since the new queen has taken the throne, things have changed significantly, but she has become ruthless with the rebuilding of Albion."

I listened as intently as my groggy brain would allow me, but I had no idea just how well things had been improving in Bowerstone, seeing as all I was able to witness was cocky factory heads kidnapping poor people off the streets and forcing them to work.

"I think it is time that we put a stop to it as the people who live in these streets, since the Queen isn't willing to do so," Page continued, "we were surprised that you took on the task by yourself. It was bold, reckless, and ended up exactly as how I thought it would."

"I know," I said softly, touching the bandages above my stomach slightly, "I had been arrogant in my plans and they fell out from under me at the last moment."

"You want to kill Reaver, too," Page said, stating it like it was a fact, even if it was far from the truth.

I was hoping for his help, actually, but it seemed that I would have to try a different tactic to getting Reaver's attention. One that had less of a risk of me being shot again, though being alive might be enough to get shot by him.

Still, I couldn't tell Page this. The way she talked about Reaver, the way she said his name, like it was poison in her mouth, lead me to believe that she wasn't a fan.

"Y-Yes," I said quickly, "for simple revenge sake, now."

Page nodded her head, "From what I have heard about you and what you have done leads me to believe that you are on our side, but I don't trust you completely. That means that you won't be getting your weapons back until I do. In the mean time," she pointed towards the bottle in my lap, "drink that and get some rest."

"What is it?" I asked, glancing down towards the bottle again.

"You don't know what a health potion is?" Page asked, actually sounding a little surprised.

"...We don't have a lot of these from where I am from," I said, deciding to give her that much, though I should have expected the question that would bring up.

"Where are you from?" Page asked, a suspicious look crossing her face.

"I'm not from here," I said, spinning up a story as I pulled the cork from the bottle, "my home is small, a speck compared to Albion. I came here looking for a different life, and I found this instead."

Page seemed to buy the story somewhat, but the look on her face made me believe that she was still suspicious of me. It makes sense, I guess. I took a look down into the bottle, the health potion, and decide to try it out. Tipping the bottle back against my mouth, I took a few swallows of the liquid. It tasted like sugar, a little too sweet for me, but the after effects of it made me drink the whole thing.

The dull pain from my wounds seemed to fade, my headache disappearing and clarity seemed to come back to my mind.

"From just health potions alone, you healed fairly quickly," Page said, narrowing her eyes at me slightly, "if you are to gain my trust, it is best you stop lying to me. The last time I have seen someone heal so fast was when the _Hero Queen_ worked with us."

I stared at her, frowning slightly, "I'm not lying to you. I am not giving out details, seeing as I have just met you, but they are truthful."

"Are you a Hero?"

I paused, caught a little off guard at the question. I had mentioned it once before, in a feeble attempt at saving myself, yet, for some reason, being asked so directly about it made me pause. I found my silence stretching on too long for me to deny it, though.

"Fine, yes, I am a...Hero," I said, fiddling with the empty health potion, "of Skill. Or, so I've been told..."

"It would explain how quickly you healed," Page said, "what is your name?"

"Bryn," I said, glancing back up at her. I noticed that a lot of the people didn't seem to mention last names, or at least from what I have seen so far.

What was _my_ last name? Did I even have one in this world?

I had woken up outside Brightwall, the same age as when I had died back in my world, and didn't seem to possess any extra memories of Albion, assuming that I had even existed in this world to begin with.

Did I even have a childhood? Parents? Siblings?

It didn't appear so.

_I'm just Bryn the Hero. Bryn the Traveller. _

"Get some rest," Page said, breaking me out of my thoughts, starting to turn around, "you may be recovering well, but you aren't completely healed."

"Alright, thanks," I muttered, laying myself down onto the makeshift bed, closing my eyes. Sleep was the last thing on my mind, I didn't want to sit around and I wanted to be moving forward. My first months passed with great speed, and I kept telling myself to keep moving forward, and now I was supposed to just sit still until I was healed.

I had unanswered questions and was in need of a new plan or mission, seeing as I had been so focused on moving forward that I neglected that fact that my ideas and plans could fall out or be changed at the drop of a hat.

_Small steps, _I reminded myself, _first thing is that I need to do is get healed, figure out what I am going to do about the Page situation, and hopefully have an idea about where to go with the Reaver situation. Hopefully Theresa will be of some help, but I doubt she is going to hold my hand throughout every little problem. _

I pressed my hand to my forehead, letting out a sigh as I attempted to clear my head of all the little thoughts and memories. I was frustrated, and the more stressed I become, the more homesick I got.

_You need something to focus on, something to keep you in the present and not the past or the future. _

I paused, then nodded my head.

I was going to get my weapons back.

* * *

It took a couple days before I was able to walk with relative ease, the heavy limp starting to fade. The underground sewer hideout became rather familiar, though I found myself wanting to get back up topside where the air was somewhat fresher. Page still held onto my weapons, which was my main focus, getting those back so I can continue to practice. I tried to remain somewhat truthful with her, though she seemed to sniff out a lie on me the moment I told it.

What could I tell her, though? That I come from a different dimension where everything she knows is just a game made for entertainment. That would blow over well...

It was rather difficult keeping that mentality, trying to keep the view that everybody I met and got to know was a result of a script, voice acting, and data. I feared that I would fall too deep into everything, that I would become part of this world more than the one I am from. Still, the fact that I had nothing to return to back home was a nagging thought and made it all the more tempting to just accept that I was part of this world now.

_Can I still call the world I am from home? _

I'm holding onto all the memories of that world that I can, bringing them up when I felt that I was getting to involved. It is home, and will _always_ remain my home.

I don't belong here. I belong back _home_.

_You seem to be doing anything to get back there, even if there is nothing to return to, _A voice hissed in my head, the logical part of me that I have been covering up with denial, _it is pointless and the only result that will come of it is heartbreak. _

_There has to be a way. This world has magic, doesn't it? _

_It is time to let that life go and actually start this one. I have a purpose here, there is nothing left back there. _

I shook my head, gritting my teeth and paced the area beside my bed. I was _thinking_ too much, and needed to be _doing_ something. That numbness that I had been building up was breaking every day, the questions in the back of my head demanding answers, and the emotions were starting to tear me apart. I wanted closure, to know what happened to my family back home, what happened to my body, and many other things. I wanted to know where to go in this life, why I am here and what I am supposed to do.

_I need to get my pistol back, I need to get out of this damn sewer. _


	6. Trust

**A/N: Alright, here is chapter six for you guys. It is rather long, but things are finally getting into motion and the next chapters should be more interesting and action-y. We are finally starting to branch more into the Reaver ark of this story. Thanks to all who follow, favourite, and review this story! I hope that you guys enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

**Traveller**

**Chapter Six**

_**Trust**_

* * *

A tired sigh escaped my mouth, my arm going up to cover my eyes from the brightness. The sunlight felt warm on my face, and the bed felt so comfortable that I was starting to debate on just spending the whole day in it. Slowly, I dragged my arm off my face and rolled over, tucking my arm under the pillow as I forced myself to open my eyes.

I stilled, my eyes widening as I took in my surroundings. There was something really amiss here, my eyes travelling over the blank grey walls, the sound of the heater humming gently filling my ears. Carefully, I raised myself up into a sitting position, pulling the white comforter off myself as I swung my legs over the edge of my bed.

This...This was my apartment.

It was all the same, the grey walls with the one picture of a meadow above my dresser, the curtains only slightly drawn, a single ray of sunshine hitting the pillows on my bed, the little alarm clock on my nightstand reading that it was a little past noon. Slowly, I pulled myself up, glancing down at myself, running my hand down the front of the faded T-Shirt I used for sleep wear, a pair of black sweat pants and my bare feet.

It was all the same, like I had just dreamt the whole thing. Did I even go camping with my family yet?

Walking towards the window, I pulled back the curtains and looked at the world outside. I smiled at the sight of the tall skyscrapers and the busy little cars moving down the streets, off to work. It felt great to be back home, in a world I was familiar with and the idea of seeing my family and friends excited me, but I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease growing.

Everything in Albion felt too real to have been just a dream. Still, I decided to shake it off and wondered out into the kitchen. It was exactly the way I had left it, the counters spotless and a few dishes sitting in the sink. I wondered towards the fridge, looking at the number of little notes and memos I had put up there, one of them being the time and date for when I was supposed to go camping with my family. Though, under one of the magnets, was a note I hadn't seen before. It was folded neatly, my name written on the front. I plucked it out from under the magnet and slowly unfolding it with shaking hands, reading the two words that were written in neat handwriting.

_Go outside. _

I flipped the note over, trying to see if it said anything else. It was a rather odd note to leave myself, but my curiosity got the better of me. Placing the note down on the counter, I crossed the small area of my living room and headed down towards the front door. As I approached the door, it felt like my throat was closing up, my heart racing in my chest.

Slowly, I reached out and opened the door, peering down the hallway towards the stairs and elevators. It was rather dark, the lights off. There was nothing there, making me frown and shake my head as I turned to look towards the end of the hall where another window was located, which caused me to do a double take.

Nearly stumbling over myself, I quickly walked towards the window, placing my hands against the frame as I stared at the world outside. It was Albion, Bowerstone to be exact. I felt my arms start to shake, a heavy feeling settling upon my stomach as I stared with my mouth agape. The skyscrapers had been replaced with tall chimneys spewing black smoke into the sky and a distance silhouette of the castle in the distance. The shops and houses had been replaced with broken down and depressing looking houses, people walking around with sad and tired expressions.

What...?

I froze when I heard something click behind me, an unpleasant shiver running up my spine. Slowly, I turned around, coming face-to-face with the barrel of the gun. My world went black as I heard the sound of a gunshot echoing in my ears, accompanied by my own scream.

* * *

I was sitting up in my cot quicker than I thought possible, the way my head seemed to sway, my eyes wide open. My vision was slightly blurred with tears, though I could tell that I was still in Page's hideout, sitting behind the boxes on the hard cot. I gasped deeply, finding my breath again as I covered my eyes, rocking back and forth slightly.

_Not again..._I thought to myself, feeling my heart racing in my chest, _just a nightmare. I'm fine. I'm safe..._

Running my hands down my face, I shook my head as the nightmare started to fade. This was the third night in a row where nightmares plagued me when I would close my eyes, though this one seemed to trump the rest. I could handle falling off a cliff, even confronting a nightmarish version of Reaver, but this one...it gave me a sense of false comfort, hope, and ripped it away.

_That's it, _I thought to myself as I pulled myself up, raising my arms above my head to stretch out my back, _I am done with sleep. I'll just stay up...or ask someone to knock me out. _

I just started walking, head aching with lack of sleep and limbs heavy. I reached the main part of the sewers, entering into the main room of the hideout, noticing Page looking down at a map of Albion with a stern and serious expression.

Or, a more serious expression than usual. She was a stubborn and hard-working woman, something I admired, and I found myself liking her more as I remained in the sewers, even with her prickly and somewhat cold exterior. I managed to get two genuine smiles out of her over the week and a half I had stayed with her.

Still, she kept a hold of my weapons, even if she was being somewhat friendly towards me. It was rather frustrating, but asking her about it just brought up more suspicion from her, so I decided to let her decide when to give them to me.

Page glanced up when I wondered into the room, her frown deepening and her eyebrows pulling together.

"You look horrible," she remarked, her eyes following me as I walked towards the table, peering down at the map.

"Nightmares," I muttered, placing my hands against the table and leaned forwards slightly, "I haven't been able to get no more than a few hours of sleep."

"What about?" Page asked, sounding interested. I glanced up at her, rubbing my hand against the side of my face.

"I can't remember much of them, really. I remember one that I had fallen off a cliff, the other involved Reaver, and the most recent one was that I was back home. The last two involve me getting shot, and all of them end when I die," I said, some tears building up that I managed to blink away.

"You have been shot before, and you are far away from your home," Page said, sounding oddly comforting, "nightmares are understandable."

"I guess so," I muttered, nodding my head, "still, I need a distraction. Is there anything that I can help with?"

"I don't know if I would trust you with some tasks," Page said, a slight smile crossing her face, "the state you are in. You look like you might fall asleep on your feet."

"I'm fine," I insisted, chuckling slightly.

"I doubt that," Page said with a sigh, "still, I _do_ have a task for you."

"Really?" I asked, tilting my head. Page usually just told me to continue to rest and heal, brushing me out of the way when I would ask if she needed some help.

"It isn't anything too dangerous or overly important," Page said, "I had gotten word that Reaver is looking for new house staff, it seems that he may be staying a while. I figured that you should think about changing your appearance, change your hair or something," Page said, then gestured towards me with a slightly amused expression, "it would also get you out of those clothes."

I smiled, "they are pretty gross..."

Still, I couldn't help but wonder about what she had said about Reaver. I had thought that once he believed that he had killed me, he would slink back to where he had been hiding. Why was he staying? I am sure Page would be wondering that as well, though she didn't seem to bring that up. Still, the idea that he was waiting for _me_ was downright terrifying.

"I thought that I would send someone with you to Bowerstone to make sure that you don't run into trouble," Page continued, the hope of getting my pistol back dwindling slightly. "You might remember him, he was there when we found you."

I paused, thinking back a couple weeks to my confrontation with Reaver and what had followed after.

"Blue eyes, blond hair?" I asked, Page raising her eyebrow slightly.

"Yes," she said, "have you met before?"

"Educated guess," I said with a shrug, "I might have opened my eyes when you guys brought me down here, I remember seeing a pair of blue eyes and blond hair, though I was running a fever apparently and might have hallucinated the whole thing."

"I see," Page said with a nod, "still, I might as well apologize if he annoys you, though in your sleepless state, you might find some amusement from him."

"Oh?" I asked, a small grin passing my face, "is he funny?"

"You forgot devilishly handsome," a new voice chimed in, making me jump slightly as I turned to look behind me.

A man that looked a little bit older than myself walked towards the two of us, a grin on his face. Some of his blond hair fell into his face, familiar blue eyes meeting my gaze with some amusement in them. I was about the same height as him, which was odd, seeing as shortness seemed to run in my family.

Had I grown while I was here?

"Seems you healed up nicely," the man said, breaking me out of my wondering thought train, sticking out his hand for me to shake, "Ben Finn."

"Bryn," I said with a nod, shaking his hand with a small smile. I removed my hand from his, glancing back towards Page, who seemed to be looking at Ben with mild annoyance. Did they not get along? Though, if Ben was aware of her annoyance, he didn't seem to pick up on it much.

"You two should go soon," Page said, "the shops should be open by now, though I wouldn't stay out too long. Meet me back here when you two are done."

"Straight to business, I see," Ben said, Page giving him a look as she started to head towards the back of the room. I watched her go for a few moments before I looked over at Ben, who started to lead me towards the exit of the sewers. I followed after him, some excitement building up inside me at the idea of being outside for a while, though I was a little anxious about it as well.

* * *

"So," I started as Bowerstone Market was coming into view, "did Page send you to make sure trouble doesn't come my way and to help pick out dresses, or did she send you to make sure I am not the one causing trouble?"

I glanced up at Ben with a small grin on my face, one which he returned with a chuckle.

"I see you have acquainted yourself with Page fairly well," he said, a sigh escaping my lungs as I shook my head.

"What do I have to do to get her to trust me?" I asked, "I'm letting her keep my weapons until she feels ready to give them back to me, I don't pester her too much, and I do whatever she asks of me. Do I need to drop Reaver's head on her desk or something?"

"Well, that would certainly be a start," Ben said as we walked into the slightly busy market, my eyes looking around for any familiar faces that might cause some problems, "Page has a hard time trusting people, I would give her some time."

"I guess so," I muttered, some of my sleepiness dissipating into irritation and some fustration. I managed to swallow that for a bit as I took a glance around the market, looking towards one of the shops that had a picture of a mirror on the wooden sign above the front door, taking a guess that it would be the place to get a new hair style.

I glanced towards Ben again, giving him a small smile. "I'll try and see if I can keep things quick, I don't think waiting around for me is the most interesting thing."

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I enjoyed it, but I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on you," Ben said, making me fight back the urge to roll my eyes as I headed towards the shop. Then again, I really couldn't blame Page if I thought about it. She had a right to be weary of me, seeing as I have been lying to her. Still, I couldn't help but feel a little annoyed with her.

_Maybe I should confront her about it..._I thought as I walked into the shop, noticing some of the hair styles lined up on some model heads, my eyes landing on some chairs in front of mirrors.

"Can I help you?" a woman asked, walking towards me with a polite smile, though I could see some of the disgust on her face at my appearance. I'd probably react the same way, seeing as I had spent a week in the sewers of Bowerstone Industrial.

"I'm looking for some help..." I said, gesturing to my head. The woman started to nod in understanding, her smile becoming more sympathetic.

"Of course, dear," she said, gesturing towards one of the seats in front of the mirror, "please, sit!"

I took a seat in front of the mirror, avoiding to look at my reflection as I looked down at my pants. Though, curiosity had me looking up into the mirror. I frowned at what was reflected back at me, the woman in the mirror blinking when I did, her mouth twitching slightly when mine would. Though, she looked thinner, my usually fleshy cheeks looking a little hollow, dark rings under her green eyes, dirt and grime on her face. Her black hair looking messy and in need of a wash, my gaze moving down to my neck where I saw the scar where I had been shot, a few other cuts and scratches on my face.

I did look horrible.

The woman came up behind me, looking at me in the mirror also. She had a thoughtful expression on her face, hand on her chin as she hummed slightly.

"Oh, I have just the thing!" she exclaimed, "we will pull it up, dye it pink. It has quite the popularity in Millfields, and in with the current fashions."

I stared at her in the mirror, trying to picture what she had described, and shook my head rather harshly. "No, please! T-Thank you, but I was looking for something more practical...I really do like my hair colour."

"Alright, as you wish," the woman muttered, "though I don't understand why you would try and avoid current fashions. Regardless, I am very good at what I do, and I'll find you something just as good!"

"This is proving to be rather interesting after all," I heard Ben pipe in, making me turn to give him a glare as the stylist started to work.

* * *

It felt like forever before I deemed myself ready to return back to the sewers, my hair now cut slightly shorter and pulled up on top of my head in a bun. It worked nicely at keeping it out of my face, and I finally got out of the shirt and pants and into a somewhat restricting dress and a black coat. I would eventually be concealing a weapon on my person, anyway.

Ben proved to be a bit on a flirty side, though he seemed to have a witty comment about something or other. He reminded me of Darren, my brother, and I found myself wanting to be away from him a little more. Still, it was nice to have someone to interact with. It made me wonder about Isobel back in Brightwall, and I made a mental note to go and visit her when I had some down time.

It was reaching mid-day when Ben and I made it back into Industrial and back into the hideout. Page gave me a small smile when I arrived back, making me give her a tired one in return.

"You look good," Page said with a nod, looking back down at the map as Ben walked past me to stand at the other end of the table.

"So, do you have any new information?" he asked, Page glancing up at him with a sigh.

"The factories are up and running again," she said, glancing over at me for a few moments before continuing, "I am going to send in some of my people to see what Reaver is planning, though I am reluctant to do so after what happened the last time. I doubt it will be long before I am called to the Royal court room to oppose one of his ridiculous ideas and I would like to know what he is planning before that happens. I just hope that they will be more careful this time while they are getting information."

"What if you had someone there to protect them?" I asked, the wheels starting to turn in my head, "let me do it."

"No," Page said, giving me a hard look, "you will just be putting yourself in danger, you may look a little different, but you are still recognizable."

"I am reluctant to show up on his doorstep as well," I said, "I don't necessarily like the feeling of being shot, but think about it. He probably believes that he killed me, and if I show up alive, scars and all, it might be enough of a distraction to allow your people to situate themselves."

"There is too much of a risk that he will kill you," Page said, "I understand that you wish to help, but this isn't the way to do it. It is reckless and impulsive."

"Let me do this," I said gently, stepping towards her slightly, "I want to help."

"Why are you so willing to throw yourself back into the line of fire?" Page asked, turning to face me fully, "Reaver shot you a week ago, I don't understand why you are so persistent on doing this."

"I want to earn your trust," I said, looking into her eyes, "I know how to handle myself, and I can be fairly persuasive if I need to be. I'll try and convince Reaver that I am not his enemy, competition, or any of that. I'll try and get him to teach me how to shoot, or find another way to work for him, that way I can watch over your rebels."

Page shook her head, "you really want to do this? You do realize that if this goes wrong, you will be putting not only your own life in danger but a number of others as well."

"I understand," I said, "and I will try my hardest to not let that happen, but you have to let me try."

"This is a suicide mission," Ben spoke up, looking over at me, "you might as well paint a target on your head as well."

"I know, but I lured him here. I might as well try and help fix some of the mess I made."

"I can't believe I am even doing this," I heard Page mutter as she walked away from the table and started to dig around in a box, pulling out my familiar holster, my pistol hanging off the side. She approached me, holding them out for me to take, "you have a week to try and convince Reaver to work with you. You will return back here, regardless of if he accepts you or not. Do you understand?"

I nodded my head, taking the pistol from her and started to secure it at my hip again.

"I'll try my hardest not to let you down, Page."


	7. Employment

**A/N: Not too sure on this one, as it really diverged from what I had originally planned for this chapter. I debated on whether to have Barry Hatch still in this, but decided to keep it Canon. Anyway, thank you all so much for the reviews and follows of this story! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Traveller **

**Chapter Seven **

_**Employment**_

* * *

Millfields was not quite what I had been expecting, though I could see why Reaver settled himself here. From the few people I saw, the way they dressed, and how their houses were, lead me to believe that they were of a higher class than the people in Bowerstone Market, and certainly more richer than the people in the Industrial area.

What I didn't expect, though, was to be ambushed within the first few minutes of entering the area. I watched for a few moments as a lone guard was trying to fight off a group of five bandits, firing his rifle and slashing at the ones that would get too close to him. Quickly, I pulled out my pistol and walked up behind the group, taking aim at one of the bandits that was standing closer to me, watching his buddies attack the guard.

I had a steady aim at his head, he was standing rather still. It was the perfect shot.

_Pull the trigger, _a voice in my head commanded, though I found that my brain wasn't really responding with my thoughts, my finger laying against the trigger, but wouldn't move.

_You'll kill him..._

I heard the guard get hit, stepping back as the bandit he was fighting laughed crudely. I narrowed my eyes, finally managing to pull the trigger. I gun went off with a loud bang, one that kind of startled me slightly as the bandit that was in my line of sight fell to the ground, a flash of blood spurting out from his head.

The other two that were nearest to him turned around quickly at the sound, some of their started expressions switching to something close to amusement, a few of them pulling out their swords and started to advance towards me quickly. I backed up with each step they took, trying to get my shaking hands to reload the gun as one of them started to get dangerously close. I could see the blood lust on his face as he got closer, and I knew that it was either me or him, as he was looking for blood.

I quickly aimed and fired, hitting him in the shoulder, making him stumble backwards as I aimed again and hit him in the head, the bandit dropping to the ground. Though, I wasn't fast enough to block the hit from another bandit. I felt the sharp pain of something slicing into my side, making me stumble backwards and trip over my own feet. I hit the ground hard, the stinging pain in my side making it hard to focus on what was doing on around me, though that was short lived when I caught something shiny out of the corner of my eye. I rolled to my left quickly as the bandit's sword swung down, hitting the ground where I had been sitting a few moments before.

Another gunshot rang out, the bandit letting out a slight grunt before he fell to the ground like the others. I scrambled backwards, trying to quickly reload my pistol as I saw the guard fighting the last bandit, who seemed to think of him as a bigger threat. I took aim at his head and fired again, the bullet hitting him just below the shoulder blades.

_Too far away, _I thought, trying to pull myself up to a stand once again, the wound on my side protesting to the movement. I reloaded my pistol before quickly moving forward as the guard slashed out with his sword, the bandit jumping back to avoid it. I took aim at his head again and hit my target this time, the last of the bandits hitting the ground.

I stood, shaking, as I processed this. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins and the smell of gunpowder in my nose. I felt my gut twist sharply, the urge to bend over and throw up making itself known. This was the first fight I had that forced me to kill all the opponents, something I should have been expecting yet again, seeing as Fable did give the player weapons for a reason. Still, everything felt too real and I couldn't seem to shake the feeling of guilt and disgust.

_I have to keep going.._.

I winced at the sharp pain at my side suddenly, remembering that I hadn't escaped the fight unscathed.

Tucking my pistol back into its holster, I lifted back my coat slightly to inspect the wound at my side. Luckily, the attack hadn't been precise and the wound wasn't very deep. I was suddenly rather happy about the extra padding the dresses had in this word, knowing that if I had been wearing less, the wound might have been a lot worse. I dug around in the pouch at my side, pulling out one of the health potions that I had grabbed for the journey before leaving Industrial, pulling the cork off it and taking a few gulps from the bottle, feeling the pain fade at my side.

I gingerly dipped my finger into the rip of my dress where the sword had cut into, feeling the smooth skin of the scar that the closed wound had left.

"Thank you," I heard someone say to my left, making me look up to the guard, who was now approaching me, "if you hadn't shown up, I might not have survived that."

"You're welcome," I said, holding out what was left of the potion towards him, "does...does this happen often?"

"You haven't been to Millfields much, huh?" he asked, pushing the bottle back towards me, "bandits are common in this area. They like to hide up in the trees," he paused, pointing up towards some of the currently empty trees that surrounded the area, "then jump down on unsuspecting people who wonder too close."

"I see..." I muttered, still a little shaky from the fight, though as the adrenaline was starting to fade, I could feel my nerves start to come back.

"What are you doing here, anyway? You don't look the type to be living here. Are you lost?"

"No," I said, letting out a sigh, "I'm looking for someone."

A look of understanding crossed the guard's face, "I see, well we are talking about the same bloke, you'll find him by the lake, he owns the biggest bloody manor in Millfields, you can't miss it."

"I think we might be," I muttered, tucking the potion back into the pouch at my side, "thank you."

"Thank you for the help back there. I didn't catch your name, miss...?"

"Bryn," I said, giving him a nod before I straightened my coat and carried on down the path towards where I assumed the lake was.

The images of the blood flying from the heads of the bandits flashed in my mind, the idea that I was the one that put the bullet in them made me shiver. Even if they probably deserved it, I couldn't help but think that I had actually _killed_ someone.

_They are data, _I told myself, falling back on the "video game" mentality, _they'll respawn later._

* * *

Finding Reaver's manor didn't take that long, once finding the lake, it wasn't very hard to miss. If things had been different, and I hadn't been through the things I had, I would have thought that it looked wonderful. I probably would have been excited to see the interior, to explore the place a bit.

Though, with everything that has happened, I found that it looked about as intimidating as his factories. It almost looked like a prison if I stared at it long enough...

Shaking my head, I started to head up towards the front of the manor, taking a moment to look down at the gazebo that stretched out towards the middle of the lake. I had always liked docks on lakes, sitting out on them with my feet in the water, and I found myself wanting to go down there before dealing with Reaver.

_Your time frame is rather short, you only have a hand full of days before you have to return to Page, _I reminded myself, _if I play my cards right, I am sure I will have time for that later..._

As I approached the front gates of the manor, I slowed in my walking when I saw a guard leaning lazily against a structure. He gave me a side long glance as I walked past him, nothing else. I frowned slightly, waiting to be questioned or asked to leave, but he just went back to looking at nothing.

Kind of defeats the purpose of his job if he just lets anybody walk into the manor grounds, though the owner of the house could certainly defend himself.

_For show, maybe? _I thought to myself, _what a horrible job. Poor guy. _

I glanced up at a statue of Reaver as I passed, shaking my head slightly as I approached the front steps. I ran over what I was going to say in my head, pausing at the front door for a few moments, taking that time to take a few deep breaths.

Should I knock or just enter? I've already broken into his factories, multiple times, so it would be no surprise if I did the same here.

Then again, maybe I should start off on the right foot...

I lifted my fist and banged it against the door a few times, stepping back as I took a quick glance around me. Evening was well on its way, though I have never felt more awake. I glanced up at the manor, taking in how large it was. There was the chance that nobody heard me, so I raised my hand to try knocking again.

As my fist was about to connect with the door again, it opened, a tired and slightly annoyed face peered out from behind it. The man looked to be fairly young, his eyes sharp as he looked me up and down.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Reaver," I said, the man behind the door smirking at me.

"Ah, sorry, love, but Reaver has closed his door to more members of his orgy tonight. Try again tomorrow, you might have better luck if you get here early enough."

He moved to close the door in my face, but I stuck my hand out and stopped him from doing so. I let out a chuckle, still processing what he had just said.

"I'm not here for an...orgy. Believe me. I wish to simply speak with him. If you could get him to come down and see me, that would be wonderful," I said, stepping back when the doorman pulled open the door a little more, giving me a look.

"Yes, well, one doesn't simply pull Reaver away from an orgy."

I let out a sigh through my nose, "look, just...tell him that his dead, hooded revolutionist is downstairs waiting to speak with him. He'll know who I am."

"I'd rather not..."

"Look," I said, trying not to sound irritated, "I have five gold piece on me. If you do this for me, it's yours."

The doorman frowned, looking me over once again before he stepped aside, "fine, stay in the foyer."

I gave him a nod as I stepped inside, the door shutting behind me as the doorman quickly walked up the stairs and disappeared through an entryway at the top. I let out a deep sigh, taking a look around me at the furniture, paintings; all of which were of Reaver, and found myself growing steadily more nervous.

_Keep your guard up, _a voice in the back of my head hissed, making me glance up towards the top of the stairs. I reached down towards my pistol, pulling back the hammer with a click that was almost too loud in the empty foyer, keeping my hand on the back of the gun in case I needed to pull it out quickly. Though, I only hoped that I wouldn't end up shooting myself in the process, the way my hands were shaking.

It felt like I was standing down in the foyer of my could-be murder's manor for hours before I heard footsteps coming towards me from the top of the stairs. A few moments later, the doorman strode towards me.

"Master Reaver will be down in a few moments," he said, then held out his hand, "he also said to remove your weapons."

"What?" I snapped, "does he honestly believe that I would face him unarmed?"

"It would be best you just do as he says," the doorman said quickly, looking up towards the stairs for a few moments before looking back towards me.

"He can obviously defend himself, I don't-"

"_Please_. I have already bothered him enough tonight, it would make it better for the_ both_ of us if you do as he says."

"...Fine," I said, deciding that I would have to rely on my speed to dodge if shots were fired. I unbuckled the holster at my side, slipping it off before handing it over to him. He took it from me, holding it at his side as he stood beside me. He looked tense, I could see him clenching his jaw a few times.

_Is everybody in this house scared of Reaver? _I thought to myself, looking away from him and towards the stairs. My anxiety about the whole thing increased tenfold now that I was without my main weapon, though I still had a dagger in the pouch at my side, something I knew I wasn't very skilled with, but it was still a weapon.

Casting a glance over at the man standing beside me, I slipped my hand towards the pouch, pulling it open as quietly and quickly as I could. I shifted my hand around and gripped the handle of the knife, pulling it up towards the opening a bit so it would be easier to grab if I needed to. I let my arm rest a little bit in front of the pouch, my fingers twitching slightly.

As if on cue, Reaver appeared at the top of the stairs. I think part of me was expecting for him to have changed, to resemble the monster my nightmares had made him out to be. If anything, he looked exactly the same, dark hair, dark eyes, cocky smile. Though, he was without his coat and top hat, and he looked more dishevelled, which was understandable, considering the activity I had pulled him away from.

"Well, what do we have here?" he asked, reaching the last step and strode towards me, "I see you have improved greatly from the condition I had previously left you in. Did some poor city dweller take pity and raise you back to health?"

"In a way," I said, glancing up at him. Even when we were standing on the same floor, he still seemed to tower over me, "a very nice couple found me laying in the dirt and spent what little of their hard earned money they had to get me health potions. I owe them a great debt, thanks to you."

As I spat out my rehearsed story, Reaver walked around me. I tried not to flinch when he pressed his finger against the side of my neck, where the scar from his bullet was in plain sight. Though, what made me turn around was the feeling of something digging into the pouch at my side, ripping something out.

I watched as Reaver looked at my knife in his hands, then approached the man standing beside me, who had remained silent.

"I told you to disarm her, did I not?" Reaver asked him in a somewhat cheerful voice, though his tone seemed...dangerous. I watched as the doorman's eyes widened, clearing his throat as he reached out and took the knife from Reaver.

"I-I'm sorry, Master. When she handed me her pistol, I thought that was the last of her weapons..."

"You did not bother to search her?"

"No-"

I flinched harshly when Reaver pulled out his pistol and shot the man where he stood, my weapons dropping to the floor as he collapsed onto the polished floor in a heap. I could see some blood leaking from his hairline and down the side of his face, his scared expression forever frozen on his features.

Reaver shook his head, giving his pistol a quick twirl, "I have had no success in finding a butler that does their job as good as my last one, it is becoming quite frustrating..."

I glanced down at the dead butler again, still shocked at the sudden display of violence.

"Oh, don't you fret about him, I'll have one of my servants clean that mess up," Reaver said, waving off the dead body like it was a spilt plate of food. "Now, onto you. Have you come to my manor in hopes that I will finish what I started? As you can see, my pistol is still warm and my trigger finger is rather twitchy this evening..."

"No," I said, "I was hoping I could possibly leave this time without any bullet wounds..."

"Ah, so it is my other services you require," Reaver said, looking me over with his eyes, something that made me instantly uncomfortable, "while you are rather...plain, I am sure there is someone up there that could help you."

"I'm not interested in that, either," I said, a bite to my tone now. Here I am, standing next to a dead body, scared, and he's insulting me. "I'm here to offer you a proposition."

"A proposition?" Reaver asked, narrowing his eyes slightly, though that smile was still on his face. I'm starting to think that it was a dolphin's smile, one that doesn't reflect what he was truly feeling. That made me even more uneasy, though I tried not to show it when I continued.

"Yes, a proposition. I have heard that you were looking for house staff..." I said, trailing off and give him a forced smile.

Reaver let out a slight chuckle at this, "I left you laying in the dirt after being forced to shoot you for interfering with my factories, now you show up at my manor, calling yourself a revolutionist, asking to work for me. This is certainly new. If it was just a job you wanted, why did you shoot my factory operators?"

"I just wanted your attention," I said, staring at him.

"Well, you certainly have it," Reaver said, walking towards his dead butler and started to move my weapons away from him with his foot, picking them up, "well, I have two new positions open. I had to...let go of an incompetent cook the day before last, and, as you witnessed, I am need of a new personal servant."

"...I can't cook very well," I muttered, knowing all too well that I burnt anything that didn't come prepackaged or came out of a box. Plus, I wasn't familiar with the food in Albion, even if it seemed similar to the food in my world.

Still, I was no cook.

"I can clean," I suggested, "I am fairly quick at it as well..."

"I am in need of more maids as well," Reaver said, gripping my chin, making me try and turn my head away, "I also get to see your thin little face as you serve under me, bringing me my meals until I find a butler who can do it properly. You _were_ the reason I had to kill Aaron here, anyhow."

"I'm not doing this for free," I stated, moving away from his hand once I felt his fingers relax slightly.

"Oh, yes, of course," Reaver said, waving his hand in dismissal of what I had just said, "my workers do get _some_ sort of pay."

"I don't want your money, either," I stated, Reaver raising an eyebrow, "I had heard that you were the best shot in Albion, something you have already proven to me, but I want to learn how to shoot a gun. Teaching myself has been somewhat successful, but I want to learn from someone with more experience."

"Ah, flattery doesn't work on me," Reaver said, "as I have heard it all before."

"I wasn't trying to flatter you, I was stating what I know," I said, realizing that however I worded it, it did sound like I was trying to flatter him. I quickly tried to move this along. "Do we have a deal? I'll do whatever you ask of me here and, in return, you don't have to pay in coin, only in training."

"Anything I ask of you?" he asked, his tone suggestive and I found myself wanting to roll my eyes and sigh. I haven't even been given the job yet and he was already starting to wear on me.

"As long as it is...reasonable."

"How do I know that you aren't one of those sewer rats? A rebel?" Reaver asked, "I have no tolerance for rebels."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," I said, trying not to cower when Reaver stood a little closer to me. I wanted to seem strong and keep my foot firmly down, but I was still scared of him.

"What was all this trouble about my factories, then?" he asked.

"As I said, I just wanted your attention. I had talked with one of your factory operators about where you might be, he said that he had no idea but that you would come around in the event of an emergency. I gathered that if you stopped getting income from your factories, it would be enough for you to come down and take care of the problem," I said, deciding to tell him the truth. At least, up until the part where he shot me. I figured that, since I apparently can't tell very good lies, distorted truths will be my best bet.

"You keep calling yourself a revolutionist, yet you claim to have no association with the rebels."

"You _did_ call me that, I figured you would recognize the name. So, do we have a deal?" I asked again, trying not to show how anxious I actually was.

"All of this was for my expertise on marksmanship?" he asked.

"I had to get you out of hiding," I said, watching as Reaver backed off a little bit.

"I don't hide," Reaver said, "you could have found me if you looked hard enough."

"Yes, my mistake," I said quickly, "do we have a deal?"

"You keep repeating that, I heard you the first time," he said, circling me once again, "how about this, you prove to me that you are worth keeping around, and I'll..._consider_ teaching you how to handle your poor excuse for a pistol."

I paused, not liking that I was _forced_ to hold up my end of the deal, while we would _consider_ his, but this seemed like the only way I would be able to do this. I feared that if I pushed it any further, he would either kick me out or...put me down, like the man by my feet.

"Fine," I said with a slight sigh, "I can work with that."

"Wonderful. Now, ma cherie," he said, throwing me off slightly with the sudden French, "I don't believe I know your name."

"Bryn. My name is Bryn," I said, crossing my arms.

"Now, I do hope you remember my title now, as your employer."

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

I paused, gritting my teeth slightly, glancing up at him after a few moments.

"Yes, Master Reaver."


	8. Accusations

**A/N: So, due to my re-reading of the last chapter, I decided to edit it a little bit. Aside from a few tweaks here and there, I also changed Bryn's position in the Reaver household, as I found myself disliking what I had originally gone with. If it interests you, you can go back and read that again if you already haven't. Not much changed, really. Anyway, here is chapter eight, which is a little shorter than I expected, but...yeah. Feel free to leave your thoughts! Enjoy! **

**Is Reaver the remaining Hero of Skill? I have my own theories about Ben Finn, but...yeah. **

* * *

**Traveller **

**Chapter Eight**

_**Accusations. **_

* * *

_This book smells. _

_I can't quite pinpoint it, really. I must have dropped it while carrying it around with me the day I bought it. It vaguely smells of dirt and...something else. It isn't too bad, the smell, but I think that my writing just might be. I am no writer, my metaphors sound like I took them from a three-year-old, and I am not a fan of flowery language. At least I have decent grammar. _

_I bought this book so that I could put down my thoughts, nightmares, anything that might lift some of the stress from my shoulders. I haven't gotten a full nights sleep in a few days, though I can't say how many, I have lost count. I really hope I am not becoming an insomniac, Reaver has already commented on the dark rings under my eyes, even if he has them too. _

_Does he suffer from nightmares, too? Or it is just part of his 'look'? _

_I don't know. If he does, I'll have to ask him if he has any remedies. _

_I didn't expect to die at twenty-four years of age, much less so to be 'reborn' in a completely new world that also echos my own. It's a video game, though I am starting to find that excuse not working anymore._

_It has been a few months since I was pulled out of my death by Theresa, who claims to be a Seer, but I think she might be something more. She claimed she was the 'Seer of The Spire', though I don't really know what that is. Still, in those months, I have been shot four times, brought back from the brink of death, and landed myself a new job. _

_In this past week, I have seen two maids shot, ruined a good set of plates, spilt hot tea on Reaver's trousers, and had his gun pointed at me about three times. Though, I guess I can say that I am starting to get used to things around here. I have yet to find time to leave and deal with some things, though I plan on trying to do so today. I managed to sneak away to pick this book up, I am sure I can sneak away for a little bit. _

_I am up pretty early, I think I can spare an hour or two to get my things done. _

_Until the next nightmare. _

_- Bryn_

* * *

I closed the leather-bound journal, blowing out the candle in the small room that I was sharing with two other maids, who were both still fast asleep. Tucking the journal under my mattress, I grabbed my coat and slipped it on. Careful not to make any noise, I walked towards the door and pushed it open slowly, looking around for anybody that might see me.

Shutting the door quietly, and walked down the hall and exited out the door that lead to the dining hall, which actually looked rather clean for a morning after what was called a 'small gathering'. I walked quickly towards the front of the manor, slipping out the front door and smiled softly at the fresh air outside. It was still rather dark out, actually, only hints of the sun starting to rise. I realized that between working and the lack of sleep, I had lost track of time. Days were starting to blur, but I hoped that a solid night's sleep will clear that up for me. I walked down towards the lake from the manor, making sure to avoid the guard in front, not wanting to take the chance of him ratting me out.

I started the walk towards Bowerstone, my arms crossed and head down. I knew that I would have to be quick if I wanted to return without any questions asked, hopefully Page won't keep me too long. Luckily, I managed to avoid any bandits and other creatures that might have attacked me, though I doubted that it would happen again.

It took me a few hours before I reached the resistance hideout, slipping into the sewers and walked towards the familiar room. I peered inside to see Page up, her head turning towards me as I walked inside.

"There you are," she said quickly, "I was growing concerned."

"It is rather hard to slip away from the manor, especially since I am new and Reaver is probably still suspicious of me," I said with a sigh, "but, I am currently a maid in his manor and I hope I will be able to keep that up."

"Have you gotten any information?"

"Aside from how he likes his tea and that he likes to twist my words around, no," I said with a small smile, "though, without anybody looking to fill in as his butler, it gives me a chance to snoop around."

"Be careful," Page said, looking at me sternly, "if you find anything, tell one of my people there with you. They will be able to slip away easier than you might, just make sure that they cover their tracks."

"Of course," I said with a nod, "is there another time you want me to meet with you?"

"Only if you absolutely have to," Page said, moving around the table, looking me over slightly, "you should get situated first before you start leaving regularly."

I nodded in agreement, getting ready to leave once again and head back to the manor, but Page stopped me.

"Watch your back," she said, "as much as I hate to admit it, Reaver is much smarter than he lets on."

"I know," I said with a nod, Page giving me a dismissive nod and turned back to her table as I walked out of the hideout and back into the streets, hoping that I wouldn't have to try to explain myself to any of the maids. Still, judging from the sun, I might be able to get back before things start to get busy.

* * *

I haven't experienced this since I was a teenager, how I woke up one morning, stretched out my limbs, looked down, and realized that I was higher off the ground than I had been the day before. I knew I had been growing taller bit and bit every few weeks or so, but this time I noticed that I was a little taller than I was the day before.

I have to tighten my corset, and pin the back of my uniform because I have been losing my curves that I had developed over the years, most of it being replaced by height. Now, I wasn't freakishly tall...yet, but I noticed that I stood just a little taller than some of the woman in the house. I had come to the terms that I would be somewhat short, as it did run in my family, but I couldn't help but wonder at the sudden growth spurt.

I made sure I was eating fairly well, that I wasn't starving myself. Maybe this is part of Skill?

_Reaver is fairly tall, maybe I should ask him about it..._

"Bryn!" one of the maids called, walking quickly towards me. She looked to be the same age as me, a girl I had seen around, but didn't really learn her name. I didn't really interact with the maids here, just the ones I knew were resistance members, and even that was rare. Was I being too paranoid? Still, I kept to myself and the things I needed to do.

"Yes?" I asked, stopping my walk towards the servant's hall to settle down for the night, the girl looking a little flustered.

"Master Reaver wants to see you in his study."

"What for?" I asked, the girl just shaking her head.

"I don't know," she said, "he just told me to fetch you."

"Alright, thank you," I said with a sigh, turning on my heel and headed up towards his study. As I walked, I tried to think of things that might have caused him to get someone to fetch me. I was quick and tedious with my work, I stayed out from under people's feet today and couldn't think of things I had done wrong.

_He probably just wants something from me..._I thought, quickly climbing up some stairs and turned down the generally dimly lit hallways. I noticed that the house had many windows, yet inside it always seemed darker than expected. It made the days when my anxiety would flare up much more taxing. Quickly composing myself, I folded my hands behind my back as I walked into his study, Reaver sitting behind a cleared off desk that usually had papers of some sort on them.

I knew this because I would peer down at them from time to time when I thought Reaver wasn't looking, though I could never read long enough to pick up on anything note worthy.

It seemed this time, though, I had his full attention.

_Crap. _

"Ah, yes, Bryn. Prompt, as always," Reaver said, sitting up fully, placing the chalice of what I assumed was wine down on the desk.

"Is there anything I can get you, si-_Master_?" I asked, quickly correcting the "sir" that was about to slip out of my mouth. I had been corrected a number of times on it before and didn't feel like being corrected again.

Reaver gave me a look, leading me to believe that he caught my mistake, but didn't comment on it as he pointed a finger towards an empty chair in front of his desk.

"Close the door and sit, I believe that it is time we had a conversation," he said, watching me as I turned and walked back towards the door. I tried not to sigh as I shut the door, basically trapping myself in a room alone with him. If I didn't count the fear for my life while in his presence, it would be the stories I heard that circulated around house, which lead me to believe that the last place I wanted to be was to be alone with Reaver.

Trying not to express my anxiety, I crossed the room once again and sat down in the chair, looking at him expectantly. I tried to think of the number of things he could want to talk about, hoping that it would be about our agreement and not what I was _really_ sent here for. I had been careful in covering my tracks and others as well, but, as always, I was just one person and prone to mistakes.

My foot started to tap slightly, something I always did while nervous. Scratching the back of my neck and touching my face, too, but I hand my hands clasped tightly together, resting on my lap.

"I see you have survived a month working for me, not without some _minor_ irritations, but a month none the less," Reaver said, "Being a generous man, and seeing that you are one of the more competent people working here, I feel that I have no choice but to oblige to your _proposition_."

"You'll teach me to shoot?" I asked, taking notice of the hopefulness in my voice. I forced down the smile threatening to come out, looking down at my hands as I cleared my throat.

"If you prove you are worth teaching, I _do_ have more important matters," Reaver said, rising up from his desk, "though, I do have some questions."

I nodded my head, a little uncertain about being asked questions. While part of me wanted to just spew out everything that happened to me to _someone_ who would listen, yet I knew that Reaver was the last person to tell _that_ to.

Needless to say, in my situation, the best question is no question.

"I'll try to answer as truthfully as I can," I said with a nod, looking up at him.

"You _will_ answer truthfully."

I gave him another nod, hoping to get the questioning out of the way so I can try to get some sort of rest. Reaver walked back around his desk, picking up his wine as he looked down into the liquid inside the cup.

"Who are your parents?"

I paused, not really expecting _that_ question.

_You tell me...my real parents don't exist here._

"I...don't really see how my parents would have anything to do with my shooting ability," I stated, trying to brush off the question, but Reaver didn't seem to want to let it go.

"You claim to be a Hero of Skill. Heroes don't just appear without being linked to another, not in these days at least. Which leads me to believe that, if you are indeed what you claim to be, we must be related somehow. The most logical answer would be that you are an illegitimate child of mine, seeing as I am the remaining Hero of Skill. So, the proper question is: who is your _mother_?"

I stared at him, my mouth slightly agape. Reaver stood before me, waiting for my answer. I kept trying to process what he was saying, trying to piece together what he was assuming. I felt something bubble up from within, making me pull my eyebrows together and grin as I let out a loud laugh. I quickly slapped a hand over my mouth, still laughing into the palm of my hand.

"I'm sorry," I said after gathering myself, "I apologize for laughing, but are you trying to tell me that you think you might be my _father_? It is impossible, we are almost the same age."

"Well, I see you haven't heard _all_ the stories about me, then," Reaver said, making me pause in my amusement, furrowing my eyebrows.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Now, if I simply _tell_ you, it would take away all the fun of having you figure it out yourself," Reaver said, his smile on his face, one that I kept calling the "Dolphin Smile", "though, if you haven't figured it out by the end of the year, I will _gladly_ show you want I mean."

"I...still haven't a clue what you are talking about," I said after a few moments of processing that too, "but I am blood related to both my mother _and_ father, who I'm afraid isn't you. I'm sorry if you were looking forward to a...father-daughter reunion of some sort."

"Oh, Avo, _no_," Reaver said, taking a few gulps from his chalice, "I am quite relieved. Now, if I am going to be teaching you, it will be on _your _time. Now, don't mistake what I am saying as giving you permission to choose when I will be training you, you will still do your job the same way you have been, and I will do this as payment for doing it _properly_."

"Yes, Master Reaver," I said, nodding my head. I kept thinking back to what he had said about Heroes, wanting to laugh every time I did, but there was a part of me that wanted to think about it.

"Good, now shoo! Before I change my mind."

That was all I needed. I stood quickly at the dismissal and walked back towards the servant's hall, all too happy to be out of there. Still, I will have to get used to spending more time with him and what that may bring about.

_The man is not my father, it is impossible. I didn't exist in this world, if I search for my family, I won't find them. I wasn't born with this, I was given the powers from Theresa. _

"I need some sleep," I muttered to myself, "I need some _answers_. Where are you, Theresa..."


	9. Extra Training

**A/N: First off, I want to apologize for the wait on this story of mine here. Writer's block has been kicking my behind ever since school approached once again. I have a feeling that it might just be a busy year for me. Anyway, I have pounded out another chapter for you guys here, as much as I struggled with it. (Nine chapters of this stuff already?) Anyway, I hope it doesn't show _too_ much. I've also been fighting with myself about the romance aspect of this, seeing as I _did_ put romance as a genre for this fic alongside the adventure. I decided, since a lot of my other fics aren't romances, I would give it a shot with this. Ah, well, as far as a romance plot with Reaver _can_ go. **

**It'll be slow building, and not mushy, as that isn't my type of romance. That's for sure. Anyway, the dynamic of that will be revealed as I build on it more. Now, time for me to shut up. **

**Once again, thanks to all who have supported this fic and to those who still do. You guys are awesome.**

* * *

**Traveller **

**Chapter Nine**

_**Extra Training**_

* * *

"Here is the wine you requested."

I turned around at the sound of one of the maid's voices, a woman by the name of Silvia, if I remembered correctly. She approached me quickly, her feet scurrying across the floor, placing the bottle down on the counter beside me as I grabbed one of Reaver's usual glasses, adding two more of them for his guests.

"Is there anything else you need?" she asked, giving me a kind smile.

Silvia was new, a poor young girl that had yet to realize just what she had gotten herself into. She was kind of mousy, her hair brown and her eyes a bright green. For some reason, I took pity on her and decided that I would be the one to show her the ropes, so to say. From that point on, she hung onto me more so than the other maids and help around the manor. She was soft-spoken, kind, yet she seemed downright naive.

She was...innocent. At least, she _looked_ innocent.

It was only a matter of time before that would fade. I could only hope it wasn't going to disappear too soon.

"No," I said quickly, answering her question while grabbing the bottle of wine in one hand, the glasses in the other, "I have everything I need here, thank you."

Silvia nodded her head, quickly turning and walking away from the kitchen with quick strides. I watched her go for a few moments before I headed off towards where I was currently needed, not too pleased about the fact that I would have to interact with Reaver twice in one day. Once was enough, really, which usually happened during "training", if I could call it that. Most of it consisted of me standing outside behind the manor, waiting for him to show up, only to just stand out there for an hour or so before I gave up and walked back inside.

At least I got to shoot when he showed up, though it wasn't without ridicule or sarcastic quips thrown in here and there. Sometimes, he would give me a smack with his cane, usually when he wasn't impressed with the way I was standing, something which I thought I had a handle on, but apparently I didn't. Reaver didn't really instruct anything, usually just mocking me until I shot something in a way he approved of and then moved onto something else.

Or he just left.

It left me wondering if I really preferred it when he showed up, even if it annoyed me when he didn't.

I had already seen Reaver for the day, which was enough for me, but he had guests apparently and needed his wine. From experience, that meant that they were either boring and alcohol was required to listen to them, or something was being celebrated. Though, Reaver usually grasped at any excuse to throw a party, so it didn't seem his style to simply celebrate something over a glass of wine.

So, it was most likely the latter.

_Oh, so we know him well enough now to know what is his "style" and what isn't? _I asked myself with a frown, not really liking that idea. As terrifying as it was not knowing Reaver at all, it also was concerning that I was starting to get to know him a little more each passing day.

_Well, I could know him like one knows their enemy, _I thought to myself as I got to the top of the stairs and started to walk down the hall towards his study.

_...Nah, I don't hate him _that _much. I mean, he did almost kill me, but he did give me this...job. _

_I sound like I am developing Stockholm Syndrome. _

I shook my head, pausing in the hallway to clear my thoughts. This place was starting to wear at what sanity I have left, which isn't that much, considering I am still here...

Pausing outside the familiar door to Reaver's study, I took a breath and tried to look a little more awake, though I doubted it did much. Sleeping had been getting better, nightmares becoming less frequent, but falling asleep was always a problem as homesickness was more common at night. It became much more troubling as I was starting to come to terms that I am longing for a place that I might never be able to return to.

Letting out a small sigh, I shifted the bottle of wine in my hands so that I could knock lightly and enter the room. I paused just inside the room, knowing better than to just walk up by know. Though, it didn't take long, Reaver shifting his attention away from his guests the moment I stepped into the room with his drink.

"Ah, there is my wine," Reaver said as I walked towards the desk, "you certainly took your sweet time, I see."

"I apologize, Master Reaver," I muttered, trying my best to look ashamed as I opened the bottle and poured him a glass, placing it down in front of him before doing the same for his two guests, an older man that had a rather serious expression on his face, and a younger man sitting beside him, who was looking at me like I had grown a second head.

I furrowed my eyebrows at his expression as I placed his glass down in front of him and backed away from the desk, waiting to be dismissed so I could get back to my other chores. The younger man's stare was starting to get a little unsettling, though he seemed to catch himself and looked back towards Reaver once again, not touching his drink while Reaver was sipping his and the other man taking it back like it was water.

_Interesting, _I thought to myself, _I wonder what has got him so on edge. _

I didn't get to hear the rest of the conversation, seeing as Reaver waved me off without much of a farewell, and I didn't need to be told twice that I should be gone. I was more than happy to be back amongst the maids once again, though my curiosity made me want to hang around and listen to what they were talking about.

Plus, it would have been a great opportunity to gather information for Page.

_You'll have time to snoop later, _I told myself as I pulled the door to the study shut behind myself, a frown crossing my face, _I still wonder when a butler for Reaver will come along so I don't have to keep doing these things myself. I can't blame the lack of people showing up to work here, though, they are being smart._

* * *

"My brother works in one of Reaver's factories," Silvia was telling me somewhat later that day as I was sweeping up part of the main foyer, a sad look crossing her face as she leaned against the mop she was holding. She was waiting for me to finish sweeping so she could wash the floor, though she decided that it would be a good time to chat as well.

I didn't really mind, it kept me out of my head for a few minutes at least.

"I see," I said, looking up at her, "and you decided to work here instead?"

"It is the better choice," she replied, "I am too frail to work in a factory and there is less chance of injury here."

I let out a chuckle, sweeping some more dirt and dust into the pile that I was building. "I see you haven't been on the receiving end of Reaver's anger. Though, I really shouldn't say _anger_, more like the receiving end of his...intolerance. I don't think I have ever seen him outright angry about something before."

_I doubt that someone who has lived long enough to tell..._

"What happens?" Silvia asked, making me pause and look over at her, "he was very pleasant when we met..."

"Let's hope he stays pleasant towards you, then," I said, finishing up my sweeping.

Silvia looked like she was about to comment when we both noticed someone walking down the stairs. I recognized him as the young man that was in Reaver's study, he looked a little determined as he approached us. Silvia took a nervous glance towards me, the young man coming to a stop before us as he looked at me.

"May I speak with you?" he asked, making me furrow my eyebrows in confusion. Seeing as the other man wasn't with him, it lead me to believe that he was still with Reaver, which made me even more confused that he would leave Reaver's study to come find _me_.

"Yes, sure," I said, glancing towards Silvia, who nodded towards me as she removed the mop from the bucket and started to wipe down the area I had just swept up. I followed the young man as he walked back up the stairs, some worry cropping up inside me once again. While I was sure I had never seen this man, there was something oddly familiar about him as well, just slightly.

"You are a traveller, aren't you?" he asked once we reached the top of the stairs, his voice low as if all of this was a big secret.

I had to admit, I was a little taken back about the 'traveller' question, recognizing the term as Theresa called me it all the time.

_Traveller._

Yet, I didn't know what she meant by that, though I had an inkling. Still, I was _not_ expecting someone to use it outside of my little dream world where I met with Theresa.

"I don't know what you are talking about," I said after a few moments, the young man nodding his head as he seemed to think about something.

"You...You are not originally from Albion, are you?" he asked, "now, I don't mean that you are from Samarkand or Aurora. You aren't from this world, am I correct?"

"Who are you?" I demanded, lowering my voice, "do you know me?"

"No, though..." he started, trailing off, "you look just like my grandmother, who was what she called a traveller."

"What?" I asked, opening my mouth to continue, though another voice cut me off.

"Henry!" his partner was walking quickly towards him, "we do not have time for idle chit-chat with Mister Reaver's staff. We have things to do, you will have plenty of time to do so tomorrow."

"Of course, sir," the man known as Henry said, taking a glance at me before he walked of after the older man. I watched him go, trying to process what he had just said. I wanted to drill him for answers, to know who his grandmother is, but I guess I would have to wait until tomorrow...

I heard the familiar tap of a cane approaching from behind me, knowing all to well that Reaver probably caught the end of the conversation.

"Idle chit-chat while you are still in working hours?" Reaver said mockingly, shaking his head, "I expected much more from you, Bryn."

"I am getting back to work," I said, glancing up at him for a few moments before I moved to head back down towards Silvia when I felt a gloved hand grip my forearm tightly.

"I was merely jesting, my dear," Reaver said, "you have been working hard, I do believe you deserve some sort of reward. I do have the rather overwhelming urge to shoot something, I believe I have just the thing."

"You want to train?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, "now?"

"I don't believe I muttered any part of that statement," Reaver said, "though, if you are against firing a gun, there _are_ other ways I could reward you."

The look he shot me left me feeling rather...uncomfortable. I let out a nervous chuckle, taking a glance behind me.

"I'm not against some target practice, I was just wondering," I said, gesturing that he continue. Reaver gave me what appeared to be a knowing look, but simply just continued to walk towards the other side of the dining hall, leaving me to follow behind and wonder what he was talking about.

He lead me into the ballroom, which contained that wheel, which I didn't really know what he used it for. Reaver paused in the middle of the room, looking at the wheel with what appeared to be a sense of pride.

"Have I mentioned to you about my Wheel of Misfortune?" he asked, glancing at me with a grin, "oh, such a wonderful device it is. It has been a while since I have made use of it, perhaps you may be able to witness its wondrous glory in the near future."

"The...Wheel of Misfortune?" I asked slowly, looking at the rather sinister looking device, looking at some of the symbols that surrounded the wheel, the caged off doors that lead to rather ominous looking hallways...

"Yes, though that is not what I wish to show you today," Reaver said, approaching one of the caged off doors, the symbol of a beast's head above it, the beast looking rather...wolf-ish with what appeared to be a slithering tongue sticking out of its mouth.

I watched as Reaver seemed to be looking for something beside the door, suddenly jabbing his cane into the wall, the sound of something unlocking filling the silence of the ballroom.

"Ah, yes, here it is," Reaver said as another door opened, revealing yet another dark and ominous hallway, a few torches lit along the wall as it seemed to lead down. I peered into it, a sinking feeling settling into the pit of my stomach.

"Shall we?" Reaver asked after a few moments, "you do have work to do, remember?"

"Yes, which I would like to get back to, if you don't mind," I said, backing away from the opening, "I appreciate you wanting to reward me for my hard work, but it really isn't necessary."

"Nonsense!" Reaver exclaimed, "I insist. It does get...somewhat brighter near the bottom."

I noticed that he was standing behind me, blocking me from leaving. I have no choice, I will have to accept my _reward _unless I want to battle Reaver, something I didn't really wish to get into. I took one more nervous glance towards him before I started to walk forward and into the hallway, climbing down a set of stairs, hearing Reaver walking behind me.

"What is down here?" I asked, glancing back at him as I continued to walk down the stairs, my anxiety making my hands shake.

"If I told you, it would spoil the surprise. Do tell me, where is the fun in that?" Reaver asked as I pressed myself against the wall as he moved to stride past me in the narrow pathway. He walked ahead a few paces, taking a moments pause to look around him before continuing on.

"I never liked surprises," I muttered, mostly to myself as I followed him down the hallway that seemed to be spitting off into a number of different ones. I was rather surprised that he had something like this under his house, though there was a lot of rooms and areas that I had left unexplored, the ballroom being one. After the parties, I was usually left to clean around the dining room and the main foyer while other maids cleaned the ballroom.

I guess that will be changing now.

It felt like hours that I was following Reaver around, my heart beating harshly in my chest, looking down the openings to other hallways with fear for something jumping out at me. My more logical part of me was gripping at her hair and yelling at me to turn around the get the hell out of there, but I wasn't too keen on turning my back on Reaver when his attention was on me.

I jumped slightly when I felt something pressed into my hands, not too sure what it was for a few moments in the darkness, but I soon recognized it as my pistol. I took it from him, securing it around my waist and glancing up at him when he handed me another thing, the metal of the weapon catching some of the light from the lanterns in the passageway.

"As amusing as it would be to watch you try and fight these fellows with just a pistol, you will need this as well," he said, shoving the weapon into my hands and continued on as I tucked the sword against my side so that it wouldn't scrape against the ground or the walls. My throat was starting to tighten, blood rushing through my veins as we approached an actual room.

There seemed to be a cage in there, stretching across the length of the room and I could faintly make out the figures of something large in the cage. There seemed to be four or so of them, sets of bright yellow eyes appearing in the darkness as I cautiously approached Reaver. He stood before the cage, looking like he was admiring the beasts inside. A few low growls were heard, the large animals approaching the front of the cage.

"What...What _are_ these things?" I asked after a few moments of trying to figure out what they were, arriving at the conclusion that I had never seen anything like them before.

"Balverines, my dear," Reaver said, walking towards the other end of the cage, "are you telling me that you don't know what these little creatures are? Even a citizen of Albion with the lowest of intelligence knows what a Balverine is."

"Well...I'm not exactly from Albion," I stated, watching a pair of yellow eyes follow me as I approached Reaver once again, "so, are we just going to slaughter these beasts from outside the cage?"

"Have you no ounce of creativity?" Reaver asked, unlocking a section of the cage, swinging it open and gesturing that I enter the cage. I stared at him, remaining firmly planted where I stood.

"I am _not_ going into that cage to be ripped apart by these...Balverines," I stated, narrowing my eyes at him.

"You wouldn't be as rude as to not accept your reward of extra training, would you?" Reaver asked, reaching under his coat and pulled out his gun, raising up and aiming it at me. Once again, I was staring down the barrel of Reaver's prized pistol, and even if the choices in this situation were to either walk into the cage and battle Balverines, or be shot in the head, I almost found myself willingly wanting to walk into the cage.

The reason for this is that at least with the Balverines, there is the chance that I could beat them. I had weapons that Reaver was _kind_ enough to provide me with. He could have refused to let me defend myself and simply knocked me out and threw me in the cage with the Balverines.

Though, where is the fun and _creativity_ in that?

Taking on Reaver would probably end the moment I made the choice. I was fast in my withdrawals of my pistol and I could dodge pretty well, but I certainly wasn't fast enough for that.

With the Balverines, there was a higher chance that I could survive, while with Reaver it would most likely result in one less pair of hands to clean up after himself.

"There's a good girl," Reaver cooed as I walked towards the cage and withdrew my pistol. I paused just outside the cage door, planting my hands on both sides of the cage to prevent him from shoving me inside as I glanced back at him.

"You'll be doing this as well, won't you?" I asked, "you were the one who said that you wanted to shoot something."

"Yes, I did say that, though I have found that it may be more amusing to watch you fight these creatures. I already know how to fight them, you don't. Oh, yes, it will be very amusing indeed," he said, tapping his cane against the floor at the thought, my eyes narrowing as he continued, "do think of it as beneficial for the both of us. You get to show me if you are still worth teaching, and I get the much needed entertainment for today. Now, be a good girl and step forward a little more."

"I'm going to die in here," I muttered, gripping the sword in my hand tightly as I stepped forward. I did make the choice with the most likely chance of me surviving it, though I could feel my throat closing up and my limbs locking in fear.

"Well, if you do, I certainly hope it isn't without a fight. It would be most unfortunate if you died without so much as an attempt to preserve what little of your existence you have left."

Part of me wanted to turn around a snap at him, but I was more focused on the four sets of glowing yellow eyes that were staring me down. I jumped at the sound of the door to the cage being shut, a few growls reaching my ears.

_You idiot..._


	10. Scars

**A/N: Here is chapter ten for you guys! Should I mark that as a fanfic milestone? So, since I left the last chapter on a cliffhanger, I decided to get this one out fairly early. I hope this chapter is alright, there is some more plot build up in it as well as some action. Not guaranteeing that it is well written action, but it's there. **

**Is it rude of me to ask for some reviews? They really do motivate me to get the chapters out to you guys, so if you want to put a fire under my ass, that is the best way to do it! Nonetheless, thanks to all the people who read and followed this story!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Traveller**

**Chapter Ten **

_**Scars**_

* * *

I wanted to plan my attacks, like these beasts would react predictably, but I quickly left that idea when one of the Balverines charged at me. It jumped at me, autopilot kicking into gear as I swiftly tried to dodge it, though I wasn't successful as I felt something sharp stab into my side. The force of the swing sent me slamming against the bars of the cage, the impact making me feel breathless for a few moments as I felt the sharp pain of the wound on my side.

Panicked, I swung out when I noticed the beast right in front of me once again. I stabbed the sword into the beast, the balverine letting out a pained yowl as it backed away. I released the sword, leaving stabbed into the beast as I pulled out my pistol and aimed towards the eyes. I fired off a shot, a short light flashing as the gun fired, letting me see where the other beast were for a few moments. I was only able to see one nearest to me, off to the side of the cage. I kept firing at the balverine, as it seemed to shake off most of my bullets until I shot it in the head once again.

I heard the balverine that I had just shot slump to the ground, making me rush towards it and grab at the sword. I wanted to swing it around to hit the balverine that was charging towards me, but I soon realized that I couldn't pull it out as quickly as I had hoped. The beast didn't swing at me, but slammed into me, sending me sprawling over the dead balverine and onto the floor of the cage, my pistol clattering across the ground. I quickly pulled myself backwards across the floor, I was having a hard time breathing, my breath coming out in gasps as I reached out and grabbed at my pistol.

I could hear the growls of the remaining balverines, including the approaching one. I could also hear that Reaver was talking to me, though I was having a hard time hearing what he was saying over the blood rushing in my ears and the ringing. My attention was snapped back to the large figure that was now towering over me, the beast dipping down and opened it's large jaws.

My arm swung up, aiming my pistol right into the mouth of the monster and I fired off the shot. I kept firing off into the beasts mouth, making sure the bullets hit its target. I barely had time to react as the beast fall forward, trapping me against the wall of the cage and his body. My eyes widened, my hands moving up to grip at its shoulders and tried to shove it off of me. It was heavy, especially since it was now dead weight. Luckily, I was able to use it as a shield to the oncoming claw of the next balverine, the pain in my side starting to become distracting as I rolled out from under the dead one and scrambled to pull myself upright and ran towards the other dead balverine that still had the sword lodged into it. I stepped over to the other side of it, planting my foot against its chest and pulled.

I fell back against the wall behind me as I sword dislodged itself, my body wanting to give out. My vision was becoming blurry, my limbs shaking with adrenaline. I _had_ to do this, Reaver wasn't going to save me. I had to save myself and kill these beasts, my fist tightening around the handle of the sword as another balverine charged at me, my sword jabbing out and stabbing it right below the neck, the beast jumping back as I pulled my sword out and raised my pistol. I fired off a shot, hitting the balverine in the chest, the beast stepping backwards a few steps with a growl. It was still very much alive, the other pair of glowing eyes watching me from the other side of the cage.

_I can't keep this up for much longer, I have to kill them quickly. _

I fired off another shot, hitting the balverine in its head. The beast slumped forward, hitting the ground just a few steps away from me. I held my side, feeling the warm liquid there. I tried not to panic, but it was hard not to when I was bleeding pretty heavily and I noticed the last balverine jumping at me from across the cage. I let out a yell, trying to back away from its attack, but he managed to get me.

I felt the claws rip across my face, barely missing my eye and ripped down to just below my chin. I let out a pained yell, stumbling back a few paces before my legs buckled and I collapsed onto the floor. I was having a hard time focusing, my arms felt like lead and I was staring into the face of death once again.

"Oh, come now!" I heard Reaver exclaim, "you are laying your weapons down after you have come so far? Do give my balverine a struggling opponent, at least."

_You are not going to die here! _A voice yelled in my head, _not in front of him, and certainly not for his entertainment! _

With some renewed strength, I flung the sword across myself as the balverine lunged down towards me, jaws wide open. His jaws clamped around the blade of the sword, backing off with a yelp as the blade cut into his mouth. I pulled myself up, backing up towards the back of the cage, firing at the balverine all the while.

It was enough to keep distance between me and him, my back hitting the bars of the cage with my pistol still raised. I watched as glowing eyes approached me quickly, the beast lumbering slightly and slower than it once was. I held my gun up, aimed at its head.

There was a sudden rush, my raised arm tingling and vibrating with power. I felt it move from my forearm to my hand as the beast got closer, then to my fingers, and finally I pulled back on the trigger. The gun went off with its usual loud bang, the sensation leaving me as soon as the bullet left the barrel. I heard the balverine let out a short yelp before it slumped forward, landing on the ground with the rest of his cage mates.

It was done.

I could feel the sharp pain in my side and across my face, my body spent. Slowly, I pushed myself off the the bars of the cage and turned around to look at Reaver from inside the cage. I was expecting him to stand there and mock me on form and grace, all the while keeping me locked inside the cage with the dead balverines, but what I found was the door to the cage slightly ajar and an empty room.

I had did what he told me to do, and, as most of our training sessions went, he left once it was done.

_To more important things, _I mocked, _like gathering more balverines for his sick game. I really shouldn't have expected anything more..._

I was a little surprised at how lucid my thoughts were becoming, I had been expecting jarring pain, possibly passing out in the cage, but it was actually starting to fade bit and bit. It still hurt like hell, but it was getting somewhat manageable. Gingerly, I reached up to my face and ran a finger across one of the long gashes there. It stung painfully, making me wince, but there was a part of it that seemed to be closing up on its own.

_Hero side effect? _I thought to myself, finally walking towards the cage door and started to head back up into the manor. I wasn't too sure if it would completely heal completely by itself, but I should at least clean the blood off so I could get a better idea of what needed to be fixed.

* * *

I wrung out the wet rag, the water in the bucket a faint red now. Gingerly, I finished cleaning off the wounds on my side, most of them closed up, but left some nasty scars to add to the small ones I already had from my first encounter with Reaver. Slowly, I lowered my white shirt that I kept with me for sleep wear, shifting so that I could grab a hand held mirror that I "borrowed" from one of the other maid's dressers, hoping all the while that I wouldn't be walked in on.

Holding it up to my face, I brought the rag up once again and wiped at the blood on my face. I noticed that some of the smaller claw marks had healed up nicely, but the deepest one looked like it wasn't going away any time soon. I frowned, turning my face and examine it a little more. The scar ran from just below my eyebrow and down my jawline before curling up slightly just under my chin. It was glaringly red and ugly, something I will probably be carrying around with me for the rest of my life.

I'd make an interesting story, at least. I knew that getting out of there with my life was enough of a reward for carrying around a few scars, as unfortunate as it is, having one of them on my face.

I washed off the last of the blood, glancing down at my destroyed uniform, wondering if I would need to ask for a new one. I would have to, seeing as I couldn't walk around with the torn one.

_I won't need one if I leave, _I thought to myself, then shook my head.

_There are people here you need to protect. You promised Page that you wouldn't let her down. _

_There has to be a limit, though. I could have very well died down there and Reaver wouldn't have given a rat's ass about it. These scars should be enough proof to Page as to why I would have left. I could return back to the sewers of Industrial or just go to Brightwall or something..._

_You promised. _

"Bryn?"

I jumped slightly at the timid voice, making me drop the rag into the bucket and turn around. Silvia stood in the doorway, holding the door open slightly. Her eyes widened as I turned to face her fully, her hand moving up towards her mouth.

"Avo," she whispered, "w-what happened to you? You...you didn't have those before, did you? Surely you didn't, but they look like you have had them longer than a few hours..."

"I've always had these," I said quickly, Silvia looking disbelieving, "maybe you didn't notice them before."

"Very well," she said, clearing her throat, "I wanted to inform you that Master Reaver is looking for you."

"Of course he is," I muttered to myself, standing, "alright, thank you Silvia, I'll go to his study-"

"He's in his bedroom," Silvia said, smiling slightly, "he told me to send you there."

I stared at her for a few moments, processing that before I had to hold back the sneer that threatened to cross my face. What would he want to see me in there for? The least he could do was let me get some rest before forcing me to be in his presence again. I felt some rage crop up, making me wish I had my weapons on me once again. I was forced to hand them over when I met Reaver in the ballroom once again after exiting the passageway, part of me wanting to strike him with the sword, but I had been too weak at the time.

"I'll go there, then," I said after a few moments, trying to keep the biting tone out of my voice, "thank you."

"You're welcome," Silvia said softly, looking at me with a confused look on her face, knowing that her eyes were on my scar. That would have to be something I would have to get used to, I guess.

It didn't take much to find his bedroom, I had been in there before to help another maid clean a few times before, but when I was to met with Reaver, it was usually in his study or somewhere else. To say the least, I felt uneasy. Though, I couldn't help the small chuckle that bubbled up within me.

_If all of this was just a ploy to get me into bed..._

I approached the door, fighting myself not to just walk in there. Firstly, I had no idea what could have been going on in there, and secondly, he was still above me, as my employer, regardless of how much I _hated_ him at the moment. I knocked on the door a few times, standing back slightly before I heard Reaver invite me inside.

Carefully, I pushed open the door and peered inside. The room was a little dark, the curtains drawn and a small fire burning in the fireplace. The room was...red. It made it seem darker than what it could have been. I made a mental note to skip the favourite colour question on my list of small talk topics as I walked a little further into the room. Reaver looked a little more relaxed without his coat, glass of wine in hand as he glanced over at me from where he was sitting in a chair by the fire.

"You wished to see me, _sir_?" I asked, clenching my jaw slightly, keeping my hands at my sides. I curled my hands into fists at my sides, watching as Reaver quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Indeed," he said, "though, I wasn't expecting to see you in such a state of undress."

"My uniform is torn up from my fight today," I said, my tone flat. Reaver smirked at me as he turned away from me, waving me over towards him.

"I certainly don't mind it," he said, "it is rather pleasant to see you in less formal attire, you do come across as quite a prude most of the time."

"Thanks?" I muttered, mostly to myself, before I spoke up, "I won't be needing another one, though. I am no longer working under you."

"Oh? Are you now? I don't recall giving you permission to do so."

"I don't need your permission," I stated, "after the way I was treated today, you can't expect me to keep working for you. I have a right as a worker to leave a job that unnecessarily puts my life in danger."

"Right as a worker?" Reaver asked, looking like he was amused at the prospect, "what right?"

"To be treated fairly," I said, narrowing my eyes, "you run factories, your workers have rights, don't they?"

"The only right they have to anything is a three minute break, which I had increased from three seconds out of the goodness of my heart," he paused, waving his hand slightly, "and by order of the queen."

"That's it?" I asked, "you can't keep workers chained to a job, they aren't slaves."

"Of course they aren't salves, I do pay them," Reaver said, sipping his wine, "though, I see you have no understanding of industry."

"I'm not working in a factory," I stated, "I am cleaning up your messes and doing household chores. Being locked in a cage and fighting balverines isn't in those guidelines, so I am leaving. I put up with your pistol being pointed at me every other day, along with the many other things you do, but I am _not_ going to die for you. More so, I am not going to die for your entertainment."

"As I had said, what happened today was training," Reaver said, "just like you had asked for, I had showed you how to shoot a gun. From the looks of it, I had payed you fairly well."

"That was not training," I stated, "I almost died, you put me into something I wasn't properly trained for and you left me down there while I didn't even know if I would make it back out."

"Shooting at bottles and cans won't teach you anything about fighting," Reaver said, standing from his chair and walked towards me, "though, if you are so adamant on leaving, then I will gladly...let you go."

"I mean that you let me walk out the front door, alive," I said, feeling my heart start to race. "I just want to leave."

"I don't believe that I can let you do so, seeing as I don't trust you enough not to talk about what happened here," Reaver said, his grin downright sinister, "as you may not know, I am trying to show the queen that I am reasonable and accommodating colleague. I do have an image to uphold."

"Yes, because kidnapping people off the streets to work in your factories shows that you have the worker's rights in mind. Very reasonable, keeping your workers like slaves."

"You may view it as such, but I do need to keep my business intact somehow," Reaver said, "though, with the queen taking money from my generous hands, I do believe that she may be willing to wave off such claims. Regardless, I don't feel like taking a risk that she may believe you out of pity. Do you still wish to leave?"

I flinched when I felt the hard metal of the barrel of his pistol pressed against my temple, something about the action putting a sense of terror into me. I had his pistol pointed at me before, I was scared then, but now...

I felt something building inside me, making me shake and my eyes fog up. I stared at the floor just past where he was standing, inhaling a shaking breath.

"I just want to go home," I said after a few moments, my voice breaking pathetically.

"To Bowerstone?" Reaver asked, "why ever so? No house can compare to mine, and I am letting you live here."

"Bowerstone is not my home. This manor is not my home," I clenched my teeth, "_Albion_ is not my home. I don't think it matters if you shoot me, I'm convinced that this is some sort of punishment for some wrong doing I have done."

"I believe you are just rambling on about nonsense," Reaver said as I felt his pistol being removed from against my temple, though he still kept it pointed at me.

I took a deep breath to keep my voice from shaking and the tears in my eyes from falling, though I felt like just falling to my knees and sobbing into the floor. I wanted to tell someone about everything, to have someone listen to me and not think I am some psycho.

"Right," I muttered, "I'm just a heretic, right? If it is work or die, and you want to keep me here like a slave, _Master Reaver_, could you be so gracious as to let me go to bed now?"

"I had only called you up here to make sure you weren't bitten," Reaver said, waving me off, "it would have been wonderful to have a balverine to replace the ones you killed."

"I'm just scratched," I said, taking my leave and headed down towards my bedroom. Though, I barely made it past the main foyer before I sunk down into one of the sofas and covered my face with my hands.

I had almost told him everything, he probably would have shot me to spare himself from my "insanity". I shook my head, letting out a humourless laugh, a few tears escaping.

I felt helpless when I had fallen to my death, and I felt the same way now.

* * *

"Bryn," Silvia called out towards me, making me look up from my sweeping. She walked towards me, a leather bound book in her hands.

"What is it?" I asked, not wanting to interact with anybody today. I had even skipped training, though the lack of response from Reaver lead me to believe he skipped it as well.

"That young man that had stopped you yesterday," Silvia said, "he approached me today and told me to give you these."

She held out the book towards me, along with what appeared to be a note. I frowned, taking them from her and examined the book. It looked like everything inside was hand written, a few pages missing and some laying loose. I lifted up the note and examined it, reading over the short words there.

_This book should explain to you what I had tried to tell you yesterday. Please, if it is any use to you, keep it. If not, return it. Regardless, I live in Millfields and would much like it to speak with you in person. _

_Henry. _

"What is it?" Silvia asked as I tucked the note inside the book, giving her a small smile.

"A gift."


End file.
